


The Dark Lord's Prince

by JazzyKatz



Series: The Blackwood Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets, M/M, Manipulation, Masochism, Memory Alteration, Time Travel, age of consent in the UK is 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 17:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzyKatz/pseuds/JazzyKatz
Summary: Voldemort taking an interest in someone is not a good thing, it only leads to a time-turner and his life being ripped out from underneath him.AU Continuation to "Alice is a Boy's Name".





	The Dark Lord's Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate route I designed to continue from "Alice is a Boy's Name". In order to understand the story, you should read the aforementioned fic.
> 
> This story takes place during Alice's fifth year, and goes down a different territory.

****

Summer was full of tension. Occlumency lessons continued, so did his potioneering practices, but there was an obvious tension. His weekends weren’t spent at Malfoy Manor, as Severus didn’t wish for Alice to be around Voldemort. Apparently the dark wizard had taken up refuge there. Some nights, Severus left, and Alice was alone in the house. He tried to busy himself with some of Severus’s books, the ones he was told not to read. Dark Arts books, he found them to be interesting, and every time Severus was gone he made sure to read them. Reading about them didn’t do any harm, it was the practice of them that was harmful. He made sure to only spend a half hour reading them, having timed Severus’s outings. They never last longer than an hour, and they weren’t shorter than a half-hour. He still didn’t know what his role was, but for now he wasn’t going to ask.

The routine lasted well into a month, although at the end of June something had happened.

“The Dark Lord has been requesting you.” Severus said to him one night, starling Alice out of his distraction. He was holding the bauble that Draco gave him, its color instantly changing from yellow to gray. He quickly put it away, turning to his caretaker.

“What?”

“He wants to invite you to dinner.” Severus didn’t sound happy about it at all, no, the tone of his voice was weary. From how he sounded, it was clear that he tried to make an excuse on his behalf.

Alice didn’t know what to say, watching Severus’s face for any hint of inflection, anything to go on. His features were well schooled this summer, never allowing for any reading of any kind. “Do I bring wine?” Alice attempted humor, despite feeling the seriousness in the subject.

That earned him a glare, “This is no time to joke around. I have an entire day to prepare you for this meeting, if you fuck up in any way it only means torture for the both of us.”

Alice sat up straighter, sighing. Yes, he shouldn’t really be joking at a time like this. “This is tomorrow, then.”

“Strictly at 7PM, not a minute later. Tomorrow, I will instruct you of what not to do in his presence.” With that he turned and left Alice’s room, leaving the boy there sitting on his bed with a look of confusion. He let himself fall back on the mattress, sighing.

At least he would get to see Draco, he thought idly.

Silver linings.

* * *

Speak only when spoken to. Do not try to crack jokes. Always end your sentences with, My Lord. Never look directly into his eyes.

Alice dressed in pure black, which made him look too similar to Severus, but at the moment he didn’t really care. After tying his hair back with a ribbon he could feel the nervous flutters in his stomach. He wasn’t frightened, not at all. While he was aware that Voldemort was a killer who tortured when he felt like it, he wasn’t as frightened as he thought he would be. He couldn’t tell why, but it was better than the alternative. Constantly quaking in your boots in panic and fear wasn’t all that helpful for your own cause.

He didn’t really tell Severus that he slightly admired Voldemort, the way the man rose to power was impressive. He was honestly inspired by the power he held and everything he could do to sway people’s intentions. His brand of politics, however, Alice was indifferent about. Boasting about blood purity and how they shouldn’t be afraid of muggles, but more so wishing to out themselves as the stronger and better species didn’t sit too badly with him, as his own view of muggles was subpar at best. He had no qualms with anyone’s hatred towards mudbloods, either. His mother was a frigid bitch and she was one of them.

At 6:58 Severus apparated both of them to Malfoy Manor. Seeing the mansion after this long made him smile slightly. He liked the spaciousness of Malfoy Manor, the beauty that resided in its garden. Peacocks were always littered amongst the green, strutting and showing off their colors. The inside, however, was like a palace. How a King’s castle should be. The Malfoys were an impressive family, and he had been lucky enough to catch the favor of the heir.

It still didn’t mean that he was Draco’s servant, Alice thought with a wrinkle to his nose. No, they were equals, whether he liked it or not.

The door was opened to a house elf that did not speak. He remembered the house-elf, asking Draco later on about why it never talked. Draco told him without hesitation or emotion that his father cut out its tongue, going back to his breakfast while Alice processed that information. Wouldn’t want Granger to discover that, given what he knew.

They were led to the sitting room, where he found Draco. The two looked at each other, and Draco’s smile seemed forced. He wondered what it was like living with Voldemort, but according to Severus, Lucius was a well favored follower. An image flashed in his head, an amusing one, Lucius and Voldemort having a sleepover like children, and he couldn’t help but smirk amusedly.

“What?” Draco frowned, catching the small chuckle Alice had.

“Nothing important.” Alice said smoothly, trying to hide his humor. This wasn’t the night to crack jokes, no matter what he thought.

“We’re waiting for mother. My father is with--the Dark Lord.” Draco paused before he said it, as if he was about to say something else. He cringed slightly to something only known to him, and Alice felt a pang of sympathy. Uninvited houseguests weren’t always fun.

Severus decided to leave them after that, and Alice meandered around the room, gazing at multiple paintings and refusing to sit.

“Are you nervous?” Draco asked then, watching him.

“Why would I be nervous?” Alice smiled thinly, “I mean, I’ve done my research, I’ve been told stories.” He suddenly looked around, finding that they were alone. “It’s somewhat an honor to officially meet a powerful wizard. I never really did before. I mean, the graveyard, yes, but, this is different.”

Draco watched him, amused, “Is it true that you put Potter under the Cruciatus?”

Alice stilled then, remembering that moment. It wasn’t one of his finest moments. “Well…”

“I’m slightly envious.” Draco smirked, “That must have felt good--”

“I’m not _proud_ of it, only amazed that I was able to do it.” Alice shrugged, “I would have preferred to torture someone worth it, like my own dad.”

Draco nodded, slowly folding his arms. Speaking of Potter... “I know what you did.” He said accusingly, “In the forest.”

Something about the tone of his voice told him that he was in for an argument. Alice finally sat down across from him, crossing his legs. _Here we go._

“Everyone saw it, you and Potter working together and you telling him why you’ve entered. Pansy was tearing up at your little sob story. I just don’t enjoy that you told Potter of all people.” He narrowed his eyes, “Calling him your _friend_ , and then you _offered the cup_.”

Alice winced, there was pure hatred in that tone. Hatred towards Harry and Alice’s friendship with him. “When I finally looked at it, I suddenly realized how much of a stupid victory it was.” He said honestly, putting his chin in his hands. “I don’t feel any different now that I won, either, so I guess the Tournament doesn’t matter like it used to.” He seemed slightly disappointed at that part.

“All the more reason for you to listen to what I tell you.” Draco said then, “All of this - your kinship with Potter and your need to be petty, I want all of this to stop.”

Alice didn’t feel the need to argue with him, looking away from Draco hesitantly. “I don’t think Potter wishes to speak to me again, not after what I’ve done.”

“Good.”

The door opened again, and Alice quickly unfolded his legs, sitting formally. Both of the boys went quiet, Alice seeing Voldemort enter the room. He walked like he owned the manor, in which it was entirely possible. A man that powerful owned whatever he pleased. He looked happy to see Alice.

“Alice Blackwood.” He said, “Stand, come introduce yourself formally.”

Alice schooled his features quickly and did as the man said, walking over to him and bowing slightly, “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, my Lord.” He said it as if he had been rehearsing the line, keeping himself bowed slightly while his arm crossed his chest.

Voldemort looked pleased, at the moment, “Severus has been telling me so much about you, I must say my curiosity had been piqued. Lucius, as well.” He smiled, something that didn’t look right on that sort of face. “A boy with amazing talents.”

Alice straightened up, smiling slightly. “I wouldn’t say amazing, my Lord, I was just put under intense training to become an Auror at a young age.”

At the mention of Auror, Voldemort’s face crinkled distastefully. “An Auror, I hate to assume that you plan on becoming such.”

“It’s not really in my future plans.” Alice was slightly concerned by how he wasn’t actually afraid, and it must have been picked up by Voldemort himself, taking in Alice’s entire person and analyzing it carefully. “I never wanted to become what my father wished of me.”

The imposing presence took in his words, thinking it over carefully. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked then, curious.

“If I may be honest, my Lord,” Alice could feel others in the room now, perhaps Draco’s parents and Severus, “I feel no reason to be scared of an impressive man. I’ve done my research, I’ve read everything. I’m honestly impressed at your feats. The way you can command an army, I’ve always taken an interest in people of power, always curious as to how they’ve become so powerful and so feared or respected. I--” He suddenly realized he was rambling, “Sorry, my Lord, I could go on about it for hours.”

There was a long silence, Voldemort taking in everything that was said. He looked amused, thinking long and hard about what the boy had said. It sounded like a breath of fresh air, someone that wasn’t afraid of him but respected him all the same. He hadn’t had that in decades. It was slightly nostalgic to his days back in Hogwarts, with his very first followers.

Alice was far ahead of his time.

“If I may interrupt, my Lord,” Narcissa spoke up softly, “Dinner is prepared.”

Voldemort clapped his hands together, “Yes, let us depart.”

Alice wasn’t really sure if he made a good impression, the frightening man spinning away and leading them towards the dining room. Alice caught up with Severus and looked at him curiously, receiving a stoic glance in return. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder, and he looked back, seeing Lucius smile tightly at him, nodding in approval.

Dinner was almost quiet, and Alice still seemed to be the topic. He was questioned about almost everything, as if the Dark Lord was trying to appraise him, see if he was good enough for a future. Alice was forthcoming and direct, recounting his talents and giving details to many things. He was far too observant at his age, Voldemort decided, his talents were just begging for something more challenging. If he had been born earlier, a lot earlier, he could have been completely useful. No one in his court seemed to match what the boy was trained to do, but then no one was trained to do so. They were all purebloods who were given everything, not put through rigorous tests to become better. He remembered sifting through the boy’s memories, recalling everything. His past life, his disgusting and nonexistent mudblood mother, the blood-traitor father that took him under his wing. He would have enjoyed to present Alice to his own father, to see how this blood-traitor’s progeny had become the one thing that he was trying to warn his son against. Yes, he knew Alice’s dreadful secret, but something about him made Voldemort not mind it as much as he should. He reminded the Dark Lord of himself, when he was younger, put into that orphanage and unleashed onto the dreadful muggles that taught him how to fight back, taught him to nurture his own magic. He wondered if he met a boy like Alice in Hogwarts, perhaps his future would have went about differently. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been slighted by a mere baby and lose thirteen years of his life. Tom would have taken to Alice in a heartbeat, two talented wizards who loathed their fathers, the name they were given…

_Alice was far ahead of his time._

Unless…

Voldemort decided to hold his thoughts for now, everyone had finished their meal. Narcissa was bringing up Alice’s other talents, his artistic side…

“How good is he?” The Dark Lord questioned.

Draco decided it was his turn to speak, “Alice is brilliant with a pencil, my Lord. He can make a picture perfect sketch all from memory, I had received one such for Christmas two years ago.”

Voldemort nodded slowly, deciding on something. “Show me.”

Draco summoned the house elf and told it to bring him his prized possession, something the house elf knew immediately. He caught Alice going pink at how Draco referred to his gift, and the house elf came back with a pop, handing Draco a picture that was enclosed by a simple silver picture frame.

It was the first he saw of a moving sketch, one that looked so entirely lifelike as if it were a photograph itself. The expressions, the subtle color, he admired it like it was from the Louvre, finally giving it back to Draco.

Alice was still blushing from the adulation Draco had given, slightly embarrassed. He spent so many weeks on that one sketch, it was utterly a show of his commitment to Draco’s friendship, and now it was being passed around. He just didn’t expect what would happen after Draco had taken back the picture.

It was either because Voldemort was amused or feeling generous, asking him outright to draw the Dark Lord. Alice’s head snapped towards the powerful wizard, his eyes widening slightly. The silent response seemed to make him chuckle.

“Dark Lord or not I am still a man interested in fine art. You prove to be an artist in your own right, Alice. I’m sure you won’t mind…”

Alice flinched just a fraction. “O-of course not.” He felt deeply honored, wondering if anyone has ever done this for such a man. “I have some supplies in my guest room, if you don’t mind waiting for a while.”

The Dark Lord nodded, allowing him to stand, “Meet me in the music room.” He commanded before the boy darted away.

Severus was unnerved at this entire night, wondering about the Dark Lord’s fascination with his godson. It looked to be a strange interest, and yet Alice made sure to impress him at every turn, somehow. He hated to think that Voldemort would want him in his inner circle, something he warned Alice against. Alice’s future shouldn’t be set early in life. He fretted, only seeing the dark mark on Alice’s left forearm in his future. He didn’t like to think of anything beyond that, what this strange interest consisted of.

Protecting Harry Potter was difficult enough… now he had his Godson to worry about.

* * *

Alice found the graphites Blaise had given him the Christmas before last, as well as another sketchbook. He flipped through the pages, checking for anything obscene before heading back down. He was entirely excited, it was akin to having to paint a picture for a King. He hoped that Voldemort wouldn’t ask him that much, he wasn’t sure he could paint that well and it would possibly end up insulting. Sketching was his beloved talent, his book at home collecting an array of images he collected back at Hogwarts. Yes, most of them were of Draco, but the blonde didn’t have to know that.

He found the Dark Lord in the music room, music filling the air. A fearsome and deadly man playing piano like he was born to do it. Although, he knew nothing of Voldemort’s childhood, he was possibly a regal young man, trained in magic and other ways. It sounded plausible, honestly. Terrifying or not, the Dark Lord was still human. He watched Voldemort as he continued to play, deciding right then and there to sketch. He often wondered how the man looked before he lost a nose and everything else, he still had sharp angles, a strong jaw. He was curious about how his hair used to be. He had an image in his head but he wasn’t sure. His sharp features made him wonder if he had a picturesque face back before he was killed. Were his eyes always red or were they a different color entirely? He could have easily been a pureblood elite with their elegance and superiority, or he could have been like Alice, a product of two people who didn’t deserve to be parents in the first place. He was so focused on his own thoughts he didn’t realize that he wasn’t drawing Voldemort as what Voldemort looked like, but as he imagined his visage to be. He was quick to realize his mistake as the man stopped playing, Alice’s head snapping up and smiling slightly, turning the paper instantly to start over. He was still hunched over, trying to focus.

“Stop.” Said the strong, eerily intimidating voice. Alice stilled, glancing up at the other. The man could easily kill him or put him under a Cruciatus if he so much as blinked wrong in his presence. Alice finally straightened up, frowning.

“Y-yes, my Lord?”

“Flip the page back.” He demanded, “You already had something.”

Alice couldn’t smile, “I--It’s not worth seeing, my Lord. My mind went elsewhere, and you see…”

“I’m not going to kill you.” He sounded offended and amused at the same time, snapping his fingers. “Come here.”

Alice swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. He finally stood up and went over to him. Great, he was going to be tortured for daydreaming. “It was a mistake on my part, I ended up thinking about what you may have looked like before.”

The older man quirked a nonexistent brow, curious. “What do you think I have looked like?”

Alice didn’t say anything, flipping the page back to where it was and turning the sketchbook around, showing him.

The man studied the image, sharp, elegant lines, a strong presence. There was personality to this drawing. He sat at the piano, playing like he was performing for thousands in a hall. Long, elegant fingers, dark, side swept hair, intent dark eyes that were focused entirely on his song. Lips thin and chiseled, and a noble nose. Everything was almost spot on, almost uncanny, like he was looking at a past photo of himself. Everything was shaded perfectly and the shadows were in the right place. He didn’t know what to think about what he saw, knowing all too well that this boy had never seen him in his prime.

The idea in his head sounded better and better.

“This is what you see of me.” The Dark Lord said, neither sounding pleased or displeased.

“As I said before, my Lord, I was daydreaming. I was distracted by the music, so I drew according to what I heard and thought.” Alice looked uneasy, doing his best not to break character. If he were to get punished for a slight infraction then he needed not to cower. Everything had been going well so far, right?

Voldemort took out his wand suddenly, slicing the page out of the book and setting it aside. “Relax, child. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

It was hard to relax even if it was commanded, but Alice finally looked up at him. “You...is it close?”

The wizard didn’t answer him right away, spelling away the sketch and vanishing it entirely. “You’ve proven to be more interesting than I imagined. Back at the graveyard you were taken to be an anomaly. I am pleased Lucius begged me not to kill you that night, I hate to imagine…what talents...I could be wasting.” He stood up then, making Alice seem smaller than he actually was, even if he was almost as tall as Voldemort. The way he held himself, Alice figured. He was larger than life, above everyone, and he was proud to show it.

“Tonight has been inspiring.” The man spoke softer now, reaching out to lay a skeletal hand on Alice shoulder. “We will meet again, Alice Blackwood. I have high expectations of you.”

With that he left, and Alice’s legs felt like jelly. He managed to go back to the couch and collapse on it, laughing hysterically now that his composure was dwindling. He shut his eyes, happy. He never gave his future a thought at all, but somewhere in his mind, a dark wizard didn’t sound that bad.

His father would be so ashamed of him.

Alice smiled at that.

* * *

For at least four weeks there was no word from Voldemort or anyone else. Severus kept leaving, so Alice kept reading. He had finished off four Dark Arts books in the span of two months, and he was eager. The train ride to Hogwarts was in about five days, and he’d be back at school with Draco. He had a bright future as a Death Eater, something he never assumed that he’d become. His parents were so staunchly against the dark, but he was attracted to it like a moth to a flame. The Dark was just...more enticing. It energized his senses and made him feel alive. The thought of learning dark spells caught his attention immediately. He would take it to like he had taken to every other part of his spellcasting, with grace and finesse and practiced ease. It meant he couldn’t have anything to do with Harry Potter, however, and yet it didn’t seem to bother him. Harry Potter was too innocent for his liking. He was naive about the world and Dumbledore was giving him a skewed world view. If Harry had seen him at Malfoy Manor, he’d be appalled and positively enraged.

You possibly can’t have a rational view about the world without getting your hands dirty in the process.

Harry’s hands were sparkling clean.

He still had the mood crystal in his hand, using it to gauge his emotions at the moment, its color as of now was bluegreen. Alice was debating on making it a necklace and keeping it on him. The Daily Prophet was on his bed, next to his sketchbook and an open page depicting Voldemort duelling Harry, the duel with the gold beam of light, them floating in the air while trying to fight for dominance, the Death Eaters huddled around them. He looked from that to the Daily Prophet, not picking it up.

BREAK IN AT THE MINISTRY - DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES RANSACKED

He didn’t really give it any thought. He wasn’t familiar with the Ministry of Magic, or the Muggle Ministry whatsoever. Politics wasn’t his strong suit, he preferred action than words. Careful planning, watchful eyes, signs and signals, subtle gestures...

He flicked the paper away with his wrist, going back to what he was doing before. He was four chapters into another Dark Arts book, learning about illegal spells. They sounded interesting, something he wanted to practice with. He should have taken the time to talk to Krum about the curriculum at Durmstrang, the spells he had learned. Hell, Nikolov could have told him all of that, but Alice knew that Nikolov wanted more than just a talk.

If he just didn’t comment on Alice’s name, they would have gotten on fine.

He suddenly heard the floo activate, and Alice cursed under his breath. Severus was way too early. He quickly shut the book and shoved it under his bed, hearing the pounding of the steps. He sounded infuriated. Quickly, Alice resumed a normal position on the bed, staring intently at his bauble as if there hadn’t been a Dark Arts book in his room at all. Its color had changed, becoming amber.

He would have to sneak that book back down into the basement while Severus was sleeping, hopefully he wouldn’t be caught.

“Alice!” He barked, effectively making Alice jump where he was sitting. The boy looked over at him alarmingly, noticing the sullen desperation on his face. That...wasn’t a good sign. “You’re being summoned.” He said it like it was a death sentence.

Alice swallowed, pointing at himself, “Me?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not a Death Eater--”

“A summons is a summons!” Severus shouted, “Don’t keep him waiting, and remember the rules.”

Alice scrambled off of the bed and checked himself, he was wearing green this time, but it wasn’t anything obscene. He hadn’t worn muggle clothing in a year. He pocketed his bauble and hurried after Severus, standing with him inside the floo and scrunching his eyes shut. He didn’t quite care for the floo, it felt awful and dizzying. Port-key was by far the worst way to travel, and floo was the second.

Why didn’t they apparate?

When they were there Alice began to cough, accidentally inhaling the soot. He brushed it off quickly, following Severus without a word. The man had adorned his cloak and mask before they left, which told him nothing. He had no idea what was going on. Was this a Death Eater meeting? His heart raced at the implications. Was this a test?

Alice schooled his features as they entered the bigger room, the dining room. His followers were sitting around the table, Voldemort at the head. Alice was left by himself as Severus took an obviously empty seat between two Death Eaters. He quickly hid his hands behind himself, trying not to fidget. Everyone’s eyes were on him, instantly, and Alice felt like he was on the spot.

“Good evening, my Lord.” Alice tried, throwing in a bow for good measure. The air was thick with tension and he felt electrified.

“Wonderful to see you again, Alice. It has been a while. We’ve been...talking about you.”

Alice stood upright again, frowning. “Talking, about me?”

Voldemort nodded, “Yes, indeed. You see, you’re an astute and observant boy, the first I’ve ever encountered. You’re as talented as your Godfather in your own right, and I’ve been thinking about a way to utilize your talents to their fullest.” He smiled, something that still didn’t look natural with lipless skin. “I have a special mission for you, Alice.”

The boy blinked slowly, his lips quirking up slightly, “A--you--you’re--”

Voldemort laughed. “He’s speechless.” The rest of the Death Eater’s laughed with him, all but one. When he raised his hand the laughter stopped. “Your talents are being wasted, Alice, and I know just a place to challenge you, however before this...we need to be sure of your loyalties.”

Alice went tense slightly, “My loyalties,” He repeated. He could feel his heartbeat in his chest, was this really happening? He had to pinch his own hand, wincing slightly.

“Don’t just stand there, come here.” Voldemort beckoned.

Alice made his way over to him, closer. He could admit, he was a little nervous at the moment. If it weren’t for the masks on the other Death Eaters he could probably sense their apprehension, the tension in the air only giving him so much to read.

Voldemort looked him up and down, analyzing him. “Look at me.” He snapped his fingers, gaining Alice’s attention. The boy raised his head, meeting his eyes. It was an instant connection, and he felt the snake back inside of his mind, and he flinched but refused to look away. He had nothing to hide, Voldemort had seen everything already. He never exposed Alice’s secret, but he knew that Voldemort knew. Eventually the snake left and Alice found himself exhaling a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“You aspire to be something great.” Voldemort said silkily, “You have no love for Muggles and Mudbloods, you’re not afraid of the very thing that should frighten you to the core.” He chuckled, raising to his feet. “However, are you _worthy_?” He hissed out, walking out to circle him, like a predator. “What can you do to prove that you’re worth my time?”

Alice’s jaw clenched, his mind running a mile a minute. He wanted something, a show of fealty. He flinched, dropping to his knees after a moment of thought and looking up at him. “Put me under the Cruciatus.” He said then, his voice wavering. It wasn’t out of fear, it was out of uncertainty.

The Death Eaters mumbled to each other. No one willingly asked for the Cruciatus, not once in their life. Everyone in the room knew what the pain felt like, how it would never leave you once it was cast. A very curse that would leave you with a melted brain if used too long, the very curse that was a subject of people’s nightmares. To ask for the curse was…insane.

Voldemort grinned at the request, pointing his wand down at him, “ _Crucio_.”

Alice almost bit down on his cheek a little too hard, crying out as his nerves burst into flames and every part of him was engulfed in intense pain. He screamed, he couldn’t help himself, his muscles spasming as he writhed on the floor. He tried to breathe, in and out, in and out, trying to control himself amongst the excruciating pain and shutting his eyes. He felt like it was hours before he was released from the curse, his mouth bleeding from biting while he took big gasps of air, trying to calm himself by filling his lungs. His nerves were on fire and his muscles still twitched, and, suddenly, he started laughing. It was a panicked, hysterical laugh that he couldn’t help keep down. His hands grasped at his head, trying his best to silence himself. Only, someone else began to laugh with him, it was the Dark Lord, fully impressed at what he was presented with.

He watched Alice with intrigue as the laughter died down, helping the boy up after he finally settled himself. “No one willingly takes a Cruciatus, Alice.” He ran his finger along the line of blood running down his chin, appraising it. “I believe he would be impressed as well.”

Alice finally opened his eyes, catching the last sentence. His senses were on fire, he could hear and see and smell more than he used to. It was like the curse was a kickstart to all five of his senses. He tried his best to focus on Voldemort, trying not to get overwhelmed by the change. He took a step forward, his legs painful and stiff. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea, he thought, maybe he went too far. He was starting to feel the aftermath, the lingering pain from the curse and his constricted muscle soreness. Draco would have been so angry if he saw him right about now.

He had promised to stop doing stupid things.

“I believe my decision was a wise one.” Voldemort said thoughtfully, grasping Alice’s chin quickly and pressing his wand to his cheek. Alice winced just slightly, expecting something but receiving a cooling sensation where he bit into his cheek, the wound healing up. Was this his reward? Alice licked the inside of his cheek, not feeling the bitten wound that was once there. “T-thank you, my Lord.” He murmured, wiping the blood from his chin.

What did this mean? Was he going to get marked? Is this how it went, showing fealty and submitting and then earning your place? He did his best not to snort, seeing the blatant hypocrisy he was showing. Here he was throwing tantrums at Draco for claiming him and now he was offering himself to the most powerful wizard he’s ever learned about.

Voldemort was watching him expectantly, and Alice had to snap himself out of his reverie, hesitating, wondering what to do, before rolling up his left sleeve. “Is this where…?” He trailed off, looking uncertain.

Voldemort laughed again, pushing his arm down. “No, not yet. He wouldn’t enjoy that you’re already marked.”

“Who’s he?” Alice quirked a brow.

“You’ll see soon.” Voldemort grinned, which looked more normal than a smile. Alice preferred the grin over the smile, it was less intimidating. “Go into the next room, you’ll find everything you need.”

Alice could see one Death Eater raising up in his seat quickly before the one beside him held him down, which only meant that it was Severus and Lucius. He watched them curiously before turning away, rolling down his sleeve and making his way to the adjacent room. He was still confused. What was he here for? What was his mission?

When did he become so eager to do as Voldemort wished?

Alice shut the door to the other room and looked around. It was a study. Filled wall to wall with books, a table in the center with a lonely small fancy box sitting at the top. He slowly made his way to the table, staring at the box, which looked entirely out of place with the cold atmosphere, the box being bright red, as if to call his attention to it. He reached down to the box once he was there, lifting it up and opening it, presented with a thick letter that was sealed with wax, the Malfoy family crest emblazoned upon it. Beside that was a satchel, and depending on the weight and feel, they were galleons. Beside that…

Alice almost dropped the box in his shock.

Why was there a fucking time-turner?

Alice’s mind ran quickly, remembering Granger and her time-turner and how they had used it to save the life of a convicted killer, who Harry told him later on in the journals, was an innocent man. If Alice had known that much, then he wouldn’t have told Severus about what he found. He continued to think, wondering what just Voldemort wanted to do in order to tamper with time. Was he telling him to go back to the Triwizard Tournament? Was he giving him the task of killing Harry Potter? An ugly feeling spread in his stomach. He could cripple him with a Cruciatus, but killing him was…

His nerves tingled, reminding him of his oath of fealty. No, Voldemort would want him to kill him regardless. He idly licked the inside of his cheek again, looking further into the box and taking the time-turner out. Below it was a small note, meant for him.

_Five rotations counterclockwise will take you where you need to go._

Alice snorted in amusement suddenly, laughing. This was as vague as fuck.

He glanced back at the doors, realizing that he should probably be gone by now. He tried to remember, five rotations, five months? That sounded right, but his math could be wrong. He was never good at math, or Arithmancy for that matter. Who would cover time-turners? Divination? No, that was the _future_.

Five rotations.

Alice pocketed the letter and the satchel before doing anything, putting the chain around his neck. His Auror training was going to be tested here, all he had to do was do the tasks one more time.

He twirled it, counting each rotation and suddenly feeling dizzy. The world was spinning hecticly, and his stomach didn’t enjoy the ride. He stopped, only to see it continuing to turn. “What?” Alice’s voice cracked as he tried to stop it, but continuing to touch the time-turner was starting to become painful. His fingers were burning. He cried out then, dropping it and feeling the hot metal burn against his shirt, his chest. He screamed, hearing something crack while the world kept spinning. The burning in his chest was unbearable, blood pouring from the wound and staining his shirt. He collapsed just then, trying to rip the piece of metal off of him. gasping in agony as hot tears pricked the corner of his eyes. He didn’t realize the spinning had stopped, finally tearing the time-turner off of him and hissing out in pain, falling back on his arse. His chest and fingers throbbed, and he looked around. He was in the same room, but there were slight differences.

Suddenly,

“Who are you?”

Alice collapsed onto his back, breathing heavily and looking up, spotting a familiar face. It looked like Draco. Alice teared up, overjoyed at the sight of him, “Draco--Draco please, it hurts so fucking bad.”

The boy brandished his wand, glaring at him, “Who are you? Who do you mean _Draco_?”

Alice’s vision swam behind tears, blinking. “You’re Draco! Draco it’s me, Alice.”

“I don’t know anyone named Alice-- _Incarcerous_!” From his wand came ropes that had lashed out instantly and wrapped around Alice’s body, making the boy scream at the wound they pressed against.

“Please, it hurts!” He cried out, even his fingers were bleeding. He was starting to panic, thinking fast, “Th--there’s a letter in my pocket!” Alice shouted suddenly, getting ‘Draco’s’ attention. Alice rolled over onto his side. “Just get the letter, it’ll explain everything!” That must be the point of the letter, right?

The blonde hesitated, stepping forward and crouching down, brushing a lock of silver-blonde hair out of his face. Alice blinked, noticing his eyes. Those weren’t Draco’s eyes. They were blue...cold, ice blue. His throat went dry. Was this _Lucius_?

How fucking far did he go back?

The blonde took the letter out of Alice’s pocket, reading the front. In elegant cursive was his name ‘ _Abraxas_ ’. He turned it around, noting the crest and shrugging, deciding to open it. He guessed this would explain the intruder in their home.

Alice waited in pain as the other read the letter, still in tears and wishing he wasn’t. Tears never helped any situation. His fingers had stopped bleeding, scabbing over, but his chest continued to bleed, staining the ropes. He rolled onto his other side to look for the time-turner, finding the golden glint a distance away. It looked melted, broken and the sand was gone. He looked on in horror, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. If that was broken--

How was he going to get back?

“Son of a bitch!” Alice cursed aloud, shutting his eyes. He should have listened to Severus. He shouldn’t have done any of this. Why was he always doing this sort of thing? Why was he always running head first into danger?

When he opened his eyes again, the blonde, Draco, or...Lucius? Whoever he was, was crouched over him, inspecting the boy under his gaze. The two of them stared silently at each other, and soon the blonde quirked a grin. He looked too much like Draco, the kind of Draco that didn’t use hair gel in his hair at every godforsaken hour. His hair was loose and falling over his eyes at the angle he was in.

“Alice Blackwood.” He said then.

“Y--yes.” Alice winced when he inhaled. “Please undo these ropes. _Please._ The fucking time-turner burned a hole in my chest.”

Abraxas flicked his wand, muttering ‘ _Finite_ ’ and vanishing the ropes. “You need healing, don’t you?” He asked, still grinning.

“Did I fucking whisper or something?” Alice scowled, showing him his fingers. “Look at me for fuck’s sake!”

“Language.” He looked amused, “Mother’s not going to like your mouth.”

Alice shut his mouth, frowning at him. The boy continued to look amused, as if he was enjoying the pain he was in. “Whippit.” He then called out.

CRACK. “Yes, Lord Abraxas?” Asked the house elf.

Alice’s pupils shrunk.

_Abraxas._

Draco Malfoy’s grandfather.

The shock seemed to work with the pain to overwhelm him and Alice let out a pained whimper, passing out right then and there.

* * *

He could practically see Severus’s disappointed scowl, for doing something so utterly _stupid_. Alice opened his eyes, presented with a canopy. His chest wasn’t in any pain anymore, and his fingers felt normal. He winced, groaning and turning on his side. The blankets he was laying on were a silky blue, as cold as the eyes of Abraxas Malfoy. He kept repeating the name, still unable to think.

He didn’t just go back five months. He went back five decades.

Alice shuddered at the realization, feeling sick. He couldn’t throw up, not here. But just as he bent over the bed, a bucket materialized right in front of him. He took it as a sign of hope and let loose, expelling his earlier breakfast, lunch, everything he ate earlier that day. When he was done Alice groaned, rolling back onto the bed and breathing raggedly.

He’d never see Severus again.

Not just Severus, Draco.

Tears pricked at his eyes again and Alice couldn’t hide it, only covering his face with his arm and whimpering, shuddering as he cried.

Goddamn Voldemort.

That’s what he gets for looking up to a fucking dark lord.

He didn’t know how long he was crying, only that he was being watched as he did so. He didn’t really care at the moment, curling up and covering his head.

“Must be hard for you.” Came the bored drawl.

Alice peeked out of his arms and glared at Abraxas.

“Cool down, Kitten, it was a statement.” The blonde chuckled. “How’s the wound?”

Alice breathed out a sigh, feeling his bandaged chest. “Better.”

“Are you going to be alright to go to Hogwarts?” He questioned then.

Alice’s head snapped up at him, going still. “Hogwarts?” His voice cracked again, it was starting to get annoying. “I just jumped back in time, I can’t fucking--”

“You’re going to have to.” Abraxas grinned, “Mother just owled Headmaster Dippet the transfer forms. You came with just about every piece of identification possible. Birth certificate, documentation papers, lineage history, everything. American, huh? I never thought I’d ever meet an American pureblood.”

The information was running too fast though Alice’s brain. Voldemort had supplied him with everything. That’s why he was given that money. That’s why the envelope was so thick. Documentation papers. “W-what year is it?” He asked in a tiny whisper.

“1942.”

The sickness came back to him full force and he whipped around back to the edge of the bed, expelling bile now, coughing and wiping the dribble with his arm. He could see his wand lying on the nightstand, along with the satchel of galleons and _the mood crystal_ , blank and clear. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He had his wand, at least. He had Draco’s present.

Alice breathed, “Aren’t you going to ask me when I came from?” He choked out weakly.

“I’m not allowed to do that.” The blonde said honestly. “Our family is said to take you in, no questions asked, and that I will get rewarded for my compliance. You’re allowed to know just about anything you need to know but I’m not allowed to know about your time or anything relating to it.”

Alice nodded quietly, “I suppose that’s how it keeps things linear...although me being here could certainly create a paradox…”

“Time doesn’t do with paradoxes.” Abraxas told him, “Everything that happens is always sorted out accordingly.”

Alice rolled onto his back once again, sighing. “This is the last fucking time I try to impress a dark wizard.”

The boy next to him snorted in amusement, as if to challenge his statement.

* * *

Alice spent the remaining four days of August holed up in his new room, avoiding Abraxas’s parents entirely. He didn’t know whether they were pleased or bothered by his presence, but since he wasn’t out on the street, he figured that it was the former and not the latter. His meals were sent to him by Whippit, a house elf that didn’t have his tongue cut out. He couldn’t really eat much, unable to find his hunger inside the depression he was in. All he could think about was Severus and Draco, how they were probably in grief right now. There was no way to go forward in time except naturally, so he might as well be dead to them. He couldn’t believe he did this, he was still dumbfounded that he made another bad decision that cost him not only his life, but his very existence. But...he was still Alice Blackwood here, wasn’t he? No one from America would come up looking for him, right? Just because there’s suddenly a Blackwood in Great Britain doesn’t mean they’d ask why. He wished he had his sketchbook, or his journal. He suddenly missed Harry now, and now Harry wasn’t even born yet---no, his mother or father weren’t even born yet. Severus wasn’t born yet. Lucius wasn’t born yet. Draco was a theory in the celestial sky that was life, he wasn’t anything tangible.

He suddenly felt so, so alone.

Abraxas had attempted to brighten his mood, several times. He seemed pretty interested in Alice’s very being, and honestly sympathetic underneath his cocky exterior. He had the habit of calling Alice ‘Kitten’, which sounded so old fashioned, which the 1940s were. He wished he could have been more entertaining than he was at the moment, but that’s what grief does to someone. He didn’t even feel this depressed when his parents died.

Eventually it was time for him to go to Diagon Alley, the last day of summer. Alice had to be practically forced out, with a little help from Actaeus Malfoy, Abraxas’s father. The man kindly threatened Alice out of bed, which worked better than he thought it did. He was wearing one of Abraxas’s robes, spelled to fit his length. The fashion in the 1940s was strange, but he didn’t really care.

Apparently one of the rules inside Abraxas’s letter was to not comment on Alice’s name, which Alice found dry amusement in. Voldemort had been kind enough to put that in. He couldn’t tell Abraxas just why he was named Alice, only that his mother was a letdown in every sense of the word.

He had enough money in his satchel for more than he thought he needed, as the prices of everything was way cheaper than it would be in his time. He was able to get everything he wanted, especially a sketchbook, graphites, a bag for everything, and some of his own clothes. He was amazed that he had enough left over, in which Actaeus insisted on him putting the rest into Gringotts. Voldemort had set him up for fifth to his seventh year, although the Malfoys were paying his tuition.

The next day he was well prepared, if not mentally. His trunk was full, he even had a broom. Though, he didn’t think he’d be up for Quidditch in the state he was in. They boarded the Hogwarts Express, and right away Alice realized how unfamiliar everyone was. He stuck to Abraxas like he was a lifeline, finding a compartment to sit in, containing one other boy that Abraxas knew. He was calmly reading a book, which looked to be an Agatha Christie novel. Alice didn’t say anything about it, leaning against the window and staring outside.

“Tom.” Abraxas greeted, nodding his head.

The boy raised his head, on his robes was a prefect’s badge. Abraxas smirked at that, “Shouldn’t you be in the Prefect’s carriage?”

“I already know what I’m supposed to do, they don’t need me more than that. I’ve already said my pleasantries.” He glanced to the side, where Alice was sitting. The sudden presence was unfamiliar, the boy wore blank robes, but he wasn’t a first year. “Who’s your new _friend_?” He quirked a small smile.

Abraxas looked towards Alice, shaking his shoulder and effectively startling him out of his daze. Alice looked back at the blonde quizzically. “Yes?”

“Alice Blackwood, I’d be delighted for you to meet Tom Riddle.” He smiled.

Alice finally looked at the boy with the dark hair, the sharp features and equally dark eyes. He looked him over, trying to pick up something. He looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint where from. “Hi.” Alice said in a short clipped tone, hugging his knee to his chest. His bauble was in his pocket, reminding him of where he was.

“Hello.” Tom greeted, smiling charmingly, “You must be a new student, you’re obviously not a first-year, are you?”

Alice sighed, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “No, I’m a transfer.” He sounded so damn American right now, his accent seemed to spark interest in Tom right away.

“American.” He was impressed, but skeptical. “What’s an American doing in Wizarding Britain, during a war?”

He really didn’t want to have this conversation, but it was in his instructions. His cover story. “My parents were caught in the crossfire of some bombs the Japanese sent down, I was the only one who survived the air raid. Apparently Actaeus Malfoy is my Godfather and he had accepted me into his home, and ta-da, here I am.” He smirked slightly, “Excuse me if I’m not in the mood to carry on.”

Tom looked sympathetic. _Looked_. “I’m sorry to hear that, I give my condolences. How are you faring?”

Alice wasn’t meaning to be rude but he couldn’t help it, snapping at Tom, “I feel just fucking dandy, Tom. I just had my life ripped out from under me, how do you think I feel?”

Abraxas’s eyebrows shot up and he quickly deflected. “Hold on, Tom, he’s had a trying week, I apologize on his behalf. Alice, please, you’re taking it out on people.”

Alice raised his other knee to his chest and stared out the window, ignoring Tom and Abraxas completely. He wasn’t in the mood to go to Hogwarts or talk, he just wanted to wallow in his poor life decisions.

Tom watched Alice for a moment longer, trying to analyze him before tearing his eyes away. “I think I’ll go patrol now.” He decided, setting down his book. “I’ll be right back.”

Abraxas looked stressed, sighing when Tom had left. “Great.” He sighed, looking at Alice. “If you continue to snap at everyone, you won’t really be able to do what you have to, will you?”

“I don’t even know what I have to do, and at the moment I don’t care.” Alice mumbled quietly.

This year was going to suck.

* * *

“Alice is a girl’s name.”

He felt like he was experiencing deja-vu. Alice ignored the first-year who uttered that, folding his arms as he stood amongst the first years, waiting on the teacher to fetch them. He really didn’t like this, he actually hated this. He was sent fifty-three years into the past to do what exactly? To live his life without his best friend, his real Godfather, his home? Hogwarts was his home, but this wasn’t the Hogwarts he wanted. He let out a small grunt of recognition and waited, feeling embarrassed that he had to do this a second time around.

Instantly, he recognized at least one familiar face. His eyes fell onto the not-so olden wizard, Professor Dumbledore, who regarded the first years kindly. “Let’s move along, now.” He looked up and flashed Alice a sympathetic smile, as if he knew what had happened from Headmaster Dippet. Everyone gathered into the great hall, and immediately he knew eyes were on him. Alice tried his best to ignore the whole process, hearing a couple of children with the surname _Black_ to be called up. At least he wasn’t the first one this time.

“Blackwood, Alice.”

He didn’t need his timer anymore, hearing the whispers and murmurs as he stepped up to the stool. He sat down a little too angrily, folding his arms and shutting his eyes.

_“Oh, how...different. Blackwood, an unfamiliar name, yet familiar all the same. According to your memories I have already sorted you once before! Slytherin it was, and according to your wants and needs, your desires and dreams, it seems that it shall remain_ SLYTHERIN _!”_

Alice stood up, hearing the applause coming from the Slytherin table, just the Slytherin table. He sighed and trudged over to the rest of them, finding a spot next to Abraxas and sitting down next to him.

“Be happy.” The blonde nudged him, “You look like someone died.”

Alice fixed a fake smile at his blonde friend, laying his head down onto the table. All the while Tom was watching from the other side, thinking.

* * *

He barely ate at dinnertime, being forced into it by one of Abraxas’s friends, Cypress Lestrange. Not forced, but threatened, though it was all the same. He would have felt better if it were Blaise coming to his aide while Theodore forced him to eat, perhaps Pansy whispering something to Daphne and Millicent while Gregory and Vincent watched on curiously. They all weren’t even here. Whispers in the air, nonexistent souls waiting to be born. He would never know them again. All and all, he was left with a stomach full of dinner rolls. It tasted horrible.

While everyone went to bed Alice stayed awake, sitting in the Slytherin common room, on the couch, with the sketchbook in his lap. He decided to draw his favorite subject, Draco, sketching him from their last encounter, from what he remembered. He looked so offended and hurt that Alice turned to Harry one more time, calling him his friend, offering him the cup. Draco’s hurt was plain on his face, and he decided that was the emotion he’d go with. He didn’t know how long he was sketching, focused only on the elegant lines and soft, emotional eyes that were staring back at him, looking like he was hurt for another reason entirely. No, this Draco wasn’t hurt that he confided in Harry, this Draco was hurt for giving his loyalty to Voldemort, for letting him send Alice away. The look hurt him deeply, making him feel guilty for ever taking interest in Voldemort.

He realized then that there were eyes on him, even if there was no sound at all. He never noticed anyone come inside the common room. He turned his head upwards, where they came from, noticing dark brown irises belonging to that same elegant face. Alice narrowed his eyes just slightly. “What?”

“Just admiring your work.” Tom said honestly, stepping over to his side to look closer at the sketch. “I would never imagine Abraxas to look so emotional. This sketch practically has life breathed into it.”

“It’s not--” Alice held his tongue. He was about to say that it wasn’t Abraxas, but Tom didn’t know. Tom was a stranger in a strange land. “It’s not any of your business.” He finally said, moving to close the book.

Tom frowned, “You shouldn’t be so cold, many are going to react negatively to your attitude. I take it you wish to survive within this house.”

Alice gripped the sketchbook, “It’s...hard. I lost...so many people. My friends..my --father.” Severus might as well be his father at this point. “I lost everything I cared about.” He breathed.

“You know, if you wish to talk about it, I can--”

“Not right now.” Alice said quietly, effectively interrupting him. Tom didn’t look like he enjoyed being interrupted, but Alice didn’t really care. He looked away from the boy and slipped out of the couch.

“You’re up past curfew.” Tom said, a little harsher. “I suggest you go to bed.”

Alice gave him a curt nod and stood up, making his way to the dormitory. Tom was behind him, of course, he was in the same year. Alice stopped at his bed and slipped off his clothes, changing into his pyjamas and crawling into bed, shutting the curtains behind him. For a moment he laid there, sighing and reaching for the satchel on the nightstand, pulling out his bauble. It became a flurry of rainbows before settling on black.

Why was he here?

* * *

In his dreams, he could hear a piano playing a beautiful song, the image of Voldemort playing along, focused on the movement of his elongated skeletal fingers. At the far couch sat Alice, sketching in his own little world.

Dark hair, darker eyes.

Pain, cruciatus, thrashing and screaming.

_“I believe he would be impressed as well.”_

Curvature of a royal nose, thin chiseled lips.

The piano music became intense, he was drowning in the notes.

Screaming, white-hot searing pain, the world spinning, blood.

A serpent snaking out of a skull.

A gravestone, carved letters, RIDDLE

_“He wouldn’t enjoy that you’re already marked.”_

Chocolate brown eyes, pale, light skin…

Alice woke up with a start, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered.

* * *

Tom Riddle was Voldemort. Manipulative, charismatic, strong, graceful, dangerous, murderer.

Alice chewed on that while he ate some toast, feeling slightly better now that he knew why he was here. He was still depressed, but at least he was eating. Druella Rosier and Cygnus Black were bickering, as every betrothed couples do. Somewhere else, Cypress was talking to a blind Slytherin witch he had didn’t bother to know the surname of. Abraxas and Alphard Black were debating over something or another, it had to do with blood and purity and something with squibs. Alice was listening to everything, though not so focused on anything. He had his eyes on a Ravenclaw girl that was carrying herself differently, eating more than her petite frame could handle.

“That girl’s pregnant.” He said suddenly, calling the attention of Tom, Alphard and Abraxas. They looked at Alice bewilderedly and then towards where he was staring.

“Ainsley?” Alphard whispered, “You mean Cordelia Anisley?”

“It’s pretty obvious.” He said casually, as if it were nothing.

“She’s a sixth year halfblood.” Abraxas grinned slowly. “Up the duff, who did she spread her legs for?”

Alice looked along the crowd, spotting a certain Gryffindor staring at her with adoring eyes. “The blonde Gryffindor that’s sitting in the middle row. He keeps giving her doe eyes.”

Everyone looked, finally seeing the boy. “The mudblood Daubney.” Abraxas was close to laughing.

“He’s a fourth year. How scandalous.” Druella seemed to sneak into their conversation. “Wait’ll this gets out.”

Tom seemed to look at the pining boy with disgust before turning back to Alice, smirking slightly. “You seem to notice fine detail.” He said appraisingly.

Alice shrugged, nursing his pumpkin juice. “I was trained for it at a young age, comes naturally to me.” He looked back down at his juice, bored, until Abraxas caught his attention.

Alice and Abraxas began to discuss American slang all the while Tom just watched, curious.

* * *

Alice practically fell asleep in History of Magic, as he did the first time. He hid it perfectly well, however, propping up a book in front of him while snoring lightly on the desk. Tom sat next to him, for some reason, deciding to sit next to Alice was a choice. He looked amused at the boy’s unwillingness to learn, but wasn’t surprised by it. Students were always bored by Professor Binns to the point of exhaustion. There would be bets that he’d die while giving a lecture and come back as a ghost, never realizing he had died in the first place. It was that sad.

As it was, OWLs were this year, and being a Prefect, he proceeded to try and wake the American boy. Prodding him with his wand and grinning, thinking of a perfectly good stinging hex.

Alice seemed to yelp at the feel of his side stinging to all hell, knocking over his book accidentally and hissing out.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Blackwood?” Binns stopped his lecture for the question.

Alice forced a smile, “No, nothing. Go on.” He narrowed his eyes at Tom, where the hex was directed from, just to see the boy sitting perfectly reading his book and taking notes as if nothing happened at all. “If you do that again I’m dealing it back.” Alice hissed out, not giving a shit that it was the future Dark Lord or not.

Tom smiled pleasantly, turning to him. “Whatever do you mean? I’m only being a good student.”

Alice turned away quickly, slumping over the table. His side was still stinging, a reminder that he was alive. Pain seemed to be a constant in his life, he figured. He winced slightly and stretched, still feeling lingering eyes on him. By now it was starting to get annoying, as it had been happening all day. “Stop staring at me.” He demanded.

Tom acted as if Alice wasn’t speaking to him, finally looking his way to meet the boy’s accusing eyes. “Sorry, are you talking to me?”

“I’m very aware of my surroundings, Tom.” Alice said quietly, “I know when people are watching me, no matter how innocent they try to make themselves seem.” He quirked a small smile, “Please, tell me that you weren’t. Go ahead.”

That was completely unexpected, but not unpleasant. A boy who had very keen senses was a valuable commodity. Tom didn’t answer him at once, regarding Alice quietly like he was a puzzle waiting to be solved. How has Abraxas never brought Alice up in passing? It was as if this boy just suddenly appeared out of thin air. The question of his existence at Hogwarts was a mystery.

He decided to play nice, shrugging lightly and giving him his best guilty smile. “Can you blame me? You’re quite interesting.” He finally said to the other, waiting for his reply.

Alice was expecting him to play dumb still, not just outright admit it. The only thing he knew was that the staring wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Given who the boy was, or was going to be. “Apology accepted.” He turned away after that.

Tom rolled his eyes, “I didn’t apologize.” He would never apologize.

“It was the inflection in your voice.” Alice said, propping up his book again and getting ready for round two. He needed all the sleep he could get in one long, drawn out hour.

By the time class had ended someone was shaking his shoulder to bring him back to consciousness, with mumbled threats of another stinging hex if he didn’t get up at that moment. Alice managed to push himself out of his sleep, yawning softly and gathering his books. Not many students were left inside the room, and Alice noticed that Tom had already left as well. He put everything in his bag and ran, checking his watch. There was a short break until Double Potions, his heartbreak unkindly rolling back into his heart. Potions, Severus had trained him so well to get better at Potions. He was honestly trying to make him excel at the subject. Now he didn’t have Severus to help him, he was left with his memories. He hoped to Circe that his improvement didn’t dwindle now that his one lifeline didn’t exist anymore. He loathed to imagine going back to being similar to Neville Longbottom in skill.

His thoughts consumed him as he entered the dungeons, his thumb brushing over the bauble in his hand. He was holding it like a worry stone like he had back at the manor, keeping it in his hands between classes, the crystal still black in color. It hadn’t been anything other than black ever since he arrived in this year.

Someone brushed his shoulder and he snapped his hand up from the bauble, noticing Abraxas at his side. He offered a sympathetic smile, taking note of the crystal that Alice kept carrying around. He still didn’t know who this Draco was, only that Abraxas looked like him. He thought that perhaps it was his grandson, and that Alice was close to him. Other than that he wasn’t allowed to know anything else.

His father had kept the melted time-turner, of course. It was locked securely in a drawer. There wasn’t any way to repair it, it was destroyed completely. Alice would only be going home by way of a miracle. Not that he was looking forward to it, the boy’s presence was sure giving him something exciting in his dull life. A mysterious boy that had travelled far from the future into their lives, all for an unknown mission that promised to reward his family for their compliance. It had something to do with supporting Tom Riddle, but he wasn’t given anything other than that. He was slightly glad that he didn’t know more than what he needed to. Knowing far too much about the future wasn’t a good thing. Only Seers were allowed that privilege.

Cypress had decided to take a seat next to him, ousting Alice out of his chances. The boy looked horribly put out by the action, but not entirely defeated. Instead, he seemed to begrudging the fact that he had to sit next to Tom. Abraxas snorted in amusement. _Good luck to you, Kitten. No one has successfully combated Tom’s rabid perfectionist attitude towards Potions for four years._ Everyone knew to not team up with him unless they absolutely had to. This proved to be an entertaining year.

Alice pocketed his crystal and sighed, not looking anywhere but the book and the chalkboard. He flipped to the desired page and listened to Slughorn’s lecture. Advanced potions made him feel anxious, the thought of tackling NEWT level potions themselves was practically a nightmare. He had to remember _everything_ about brewing potions from Severus. Everything. How to properly cut them, how to slice, crush, bleed, preparing ingredients in a certain way could make or break the potion itself. Severus’s style of preparation weren’t even in the textbooks that he read, yet it wielded outstanding results. He just had to follow what he knew…

The potion was a NEWT level potion, Draught of Peace. Alice held in a moan at the exceedingly long instructions list. They had to be precise. He stared downward at his cauldron, then back at the list. No, he could do this. Severus would be so happy if he knew Alice didn’t fuck it up on the first try. He took in a deep breath, going to the potions cabinet for everything he needed. The powered quills made his nose itch, smelling akin to pepper. He had to make sure not to let them anywhere near his nose for the entire time, lest he sneeze them all over the table. Alice returned to his table and began to put everything in a meticulous order, setting everything in a certain place. He seemed to be the only one doing that, garnering a few stares. He was on the far right corner of the first table, so of course he was under scrutiny of those behind him. He murmured a hovering spell on his book, propping it up right in front of him so he didn’t have to look down.

Someone chuckled under their breath, and Alice glanced aside, holding in a comment. Of course it was Riddle. He pushed those thoughts aside, this wasn’t about impressing Tom, this was about making his _father_ proud.

If Severus was his father to begin with, perhaps none of this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

Alice focused solely on his work, adding, stirring, adding, letting it simmer. The potion kept turning a myriad of colors; green, blue, purple, pink, turquoise, and so on. He made sure to do everything to the best shade of its color before switching off. Purple, red, orange, turquoise, purple. Add, stir, simmer, add, simmer. He was nearly done, adding the porcupine quills while stirring until the potion turned white. There was already a silver vapour rising up from the potion but Alice didn’t celebrate yet. Allowing it to simmer before taking a dropper to add exactly seven drops of hellebore. He felt like he had been holding his breath for the entire time he was brewing the potion, finally allowing himself time to breathe before turning off the heat. It was done, it was perfect.

A tear stung at the edge of his eyes. Severus would be so proud.

His focus on the potion was soon lost, making room for the sounds and sensations of the environment around him. He heard people cursing at their mistakes, whispering, someone crying out at a small explosion. Slughorn was going from back to front, checking everyone’s potion. There were little hmms and ahhs, nothing inspiring any recognition from the man. He got to Abraxas and Cypress, the inflection in his voice becoming more relieved to find that someone actually had done the potion in the right way. Alice had went stiff in apprehension, looking at his potion for the fifth time. It still looked perfect, his best one yet. Finally, Slughorn stopped at the front table, gazing over Tom’s potion and taking in his work.

“Perfection as always, Mr. Riddle.” He praised, smiling widely, “Again, Mr. Riddle delivers us a perfect potion.”

Alice heard a lone Hufflepuff muttering ‘asskisser’ in the background, snorting in amusement. The sound was so sudden that Alice had to cover his mouth quickly, receiving odd looks from Tom himself. Slughorn seemed to follow Alice’s sudden outburst, stepping over to him to study his potion, checking the consistency and the color just as he did Tom’s.

“Outstanding, another perfect potion.” He sounded amazed, looking over Alice curiously. “You’re the transfer student, Mr...Blackwood.” He blinked, “Could you be related to Augustine and Kipling Blackwood by any chance?”

Alice stilled, realizing that the obvious culprit next to him was watching, yet again. He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “I’m not sure, Professor Slughorn, my father never mentioned anyone else in the family.”

Slughorn scratched his chin, “I’ve met with Kipling Blackwood on a travel to America many years ago, he was astute in Potions as well, a wonder with words, he was. He could weave a tale that could catch you by your heels and leave you hanging!” He sounded nostalgic, chuckling over the memory. “Yes, why, you’re just as talented as he was.”

“Actually, I’ve gotten my Potions talent from my father.” Alice smiled, wishing to boast. “His name was Severus Blackwood, he was a Potion’s Master at Ilvermorny and very dear to me.”

Slughorn didn’t recognize the name, only nodding. “Must be Kipling’s son, I haven’t kept contact with him in ages. My statement still stands, dear boy. Alice, how unusual of a name, but I won’t comment on it.” Even though he already commented on it. “You keep this up, dear boy, you might become a part of my special club!” He grinned at the thought and moved on, leaving Alice confused. Tom was still staring at him, so he finally turned to the other.

“What special club?” Alice asked obliviously.

“The Slug Club, Blackwood.” He explained simply, “A few of us are already a part of it. He uses it to collect exceptionally bright students, it’s mostly for the connections he will gain in the future.”

“Sounds...uninteresting.” Alice said finally, looking back into the potion and deciding to take a vial for himself while pouring one for Slughorn. He needed a calming draught or three after this.

“You’re not supposed to pocket your own potions.” Tom smirked, watching him like the honorable Prefect he was.

Alice ignored him and pocketed three vials. “It’s perfect, I’m not wasting something I certainly need right now. I refuse to go to Madam Pomfrey for this.” Alice didn’t realize his slip up, not noticing Tom quirking his brow.

“Madam Pomfrey?” He repeated.

Alice realized his mistake, thinking quickly, “Nurse back at Ilvermorny, sorry.”

Tom didn’t press on it, although he was curious.

Alice left the room once everything was done, needing to separate himself from Tom Riddle right now and cursing himself on his little slip-up.

* * *

The days went by slowly, but in time Alice started to notice a change. He was becoming...comfortable. The grief over everyone he lost was slowing ebbing away, but not to the point where it was completely gone. There were times, random moments where it hit him and he cried in private. Otherwise, he began to see similarities to everyone he knew now and then. Druella and Cygnus reminded him of Pansy and Blaise, two bickering couples that loved each other deeply. Druella was a gossip and often flirted with others to make Cygnus jealous, and it worked most of the time. She only flirted to teach the boy a lesson, whatever lesson she designed in her head. Cypress was reminiscent of Theodore, the crafty boy with a silver tongue, able to talk himself into anything and everything. He mostly used it for political gains, thinking about his future with his own betrothed wife - Drusilla Bloodstone, the blind witch who was talented without sight. Abraxas was so much like Draco it hurt, cocky and egotistical, eager to please his father and thinks he owned everything. Being with Abraxas made him realize what he had with Draco, what he had lost, and what he wished he could have done amidst Pansy’s annoying suggestions.

Then there was Tom. Tom Riddle the enigma, Tom Riddle the silent yet calculating boy that always had a valid reason for everything he did. He never did anything frivolous or out of step, everything was well thought out beforehand. He was serious and kind, with an undertone of cruelty that could only be seen if you looked closely at his eyes. He never did anything dangerous, from what Alice had seen, but the spirit of a killer lied underneath that cool and kind exterior. He was also masterful with his tongue, snakelike in nature and saying just the right things to lull anyone into a false sense of security.

Perhaps it was that reason, of knowing who this man was to become, that made him immune to the other’s charm. Alice was supposed to be friendly with him, supposed to become part of his inner circle, but he knew better. The last time he allowed himself to be controlled by Voldemort he had his whole life ripped away from him, and now he was supposed to do it a second time, no questions asked.

Alice, however, had a knack for finding trouble without trying, and the more he distanced himself from Tom Riddle, the more the other became curious about Alice Blackwood. It was a volatile combination that was liable to burst into flames at any time.

The first Hogsmeade visit Alice began to notice an anomaly in his peripherals. A curious sight. He was being watched, not only by Riddle, but by another person entirely. A girl. He vaguely knew the girl, a fourth year Slytherin with black hair, which seemed to be a running theme in Slytherin. She mostly kept to herself, shy, reserved, but watching anyway. Every time Alice met her eyes, she’d look away quickly, her cheeks turning pink.

He rolled his eyes at the situation.

“She’s been watching me for a month.” Alice said in The Three Broomsticks, surrounded by Abraxas and Cypress, and their mutual friends. Gideon Avery and Adrian Mulciber.

“Who’s been watching you?” Gideon asked, roaming the entire room with his eyes.

“Prince.” Alice gestured to the lone booth in the corner, and the girl hiding her eyes.

“Word is she’s looking for a husband.” Cypress grinned, “Guess she’s found a winner.”

Alice blanched, he forgot, marriages were a _thing_ with purebloods. Everyone was looking for their next heir. “How can I tell her I’m not interested?” He questioned.

“I don’t see why not, you’re of a well respected, pureblood family, and so is she.” Adrian watched Eileen curiously. “She may not be a looker, but I don’t see--”

Alice looked dreadfully uncomfortable, and Cypress continued to analyze his features. “You’re not of that stock, are you?”

Alice felt all eyes on him aside from Eileen’s, worrying his thumb over his bauble. It wasn’t black anymore, but a gray. Gray like Draco’s eyes. “Girls aren’t…” He couldn’t believe he was having to explain this again, “Their voices grate on my nerves.”

Abraxas’s eyebrows shot up into his hair, “Cy, how did you know?”

The boy looked smug, “Every time Druella flirts with Alice he cringes and shoves her away like she’s a nuisance.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Gideon snorted.

Alice sighed, “Boys are more tolerable, so there’s that.” He looked back in Eileen’s direction. “I’ll buy firewhiskey for whoever turns Eileen away kindly.”

Gideon and Adrian both shot up, trying to fight over each other to get out of the booth, but Cypress had already gotten there before them, having leapt out of the booth like his arse was on fire. Alice held in his laughter, smiling sympathetically at Eileen as Cypress broke it to her.

Abraxas watched on, thinking about everything he was told.

* * *

Alice had a bottle of firewhiskey hidden under his robes, grinning from ear to ear after a nice day spent in Hogsmeade. It was almost like home, if you didn’t think about it too hard. They met up with Druella and Cygnus, the two of them arguing about something different than last week’s argument, demanding their friends to take sides and watching Gideon and Adrian run away yelling about essays that needed to be done. Honestly, he knew people were watching him, but he didn’t care. It was the first time he ever managed to crack a smile and he was going to ride the waves of his good mood while his friends got shitfaced off of his stash.

The firewhiskey came easily, after Abraxas daring Alice to sneak into the storeroom of The Three Broomsticks while Cypress was flirting with the matron, managing to take her attention off of the fact that Alice was snatching away one of her finest stashes of alcohol.

The three boys hurried into the common room as if someone was on their heels, breaking out into laughter while Alice revealed the fifth of whiskey from beneath his robes. “She was ready to bed you!” Abraxas almost shouted, “If Drusilla ever found out--”

“No one’s going to tell her.” Cypress breathed.

“Mate, there were a handful of witnesses watching you woo the witch.” Alice collapsed onto the couch, “I didn’t hear all that much, but I know doe eyes when I see them. She didn’t even notice me unlock that storeroom, her eyes were glued to you.”

Cypress looked almost prideful at that, grinning and sitting at the end of the couch. “I do have a way with the damsels, it’s a shame that I’m taken.”

“Meaning he would have bedded almost every girl in Hogwarts.” Abraxas teased, “Drusilla keeps him under a tight leash.”

“It’s not my fault I’m attractive and desirable.” Cypress drawled.

Alice smirked, “I would hate to see Cypress having a go with all the Hufflepuff girls.”

“They’re the easiest ones.” The boy said suggestively, daydreaming about things that couldn’t possibly happen as long as Drusilla was around.

Alice snorted in amusement, unwrapping the firewhiskey and opening it up, taking a good inhale. It smelled strong, stronger than what he was used to. This could possibly be made from fire itself. Before he could try it Cypress ripped the bottle from his hands.

“Don’t be barbaric.” He admonished, taking it to a desk and conjuring three brandy glasses, pouring a small amount in each glass before closing it up.

Alice went over to capture his own glass, smirking. “Better hurry before Riddle comes in, being a Prefect and all.”

Abraxas rolled his eyes, “Tom won’t do anything, having him as a Prefect means we get off scot free as long as we’re not in public.”

Alice sipped his drink, “Likes to keep up appearances, does he?”

“Let’s just say if he was there, we wouldn’t be sitting with this great treasure.” Cypress patted the top of the bottle. “That reminds me,” He looked at Abraxas, “Should we tell him?”

Abraxas swallowed his firewhiskey, glancing at Alice, “Has it been long enough?”

“I believe he’s been good so far.”

The cryptic back-and-forth was getting on Alice’s nerves quickly, “Either tell me what you’re talking about or I’m keeping the bottle.”

Cypress looked scandalized, clutching the bottle as if it was his flesh and blood.

“We have a secret club.” Abraxas said finally, looking at Alice. “It’s called the Knights of Walpurgis. We get together at least twice a month and discuss important topics. Tom’s our leader, he wishes to change everything, it’s very inspiring.”

Alice listened carefully, his thought-process on high. “Please tell me it’s different than the Slug Club.”

Both of them laughed, “Well we _hope_ so.” Cypress poured himself another round.

“We have five members already, yours truly, Mr. Irresistible,” Abraxas gestured to Cypress, “Adrian, Gideon, and Dorian Nott.”

“You mean the man who keeps living out of his books?” Alice hardly had any time alone with Dorian, he wasn’t like his grandson at all. He had his nose in history books, and was at least the only one in Professor Binns’ class who didn’t daydream or fall asleep during his lectures.

“He’s antisocial.” Abraxas shrugged, “but, he’s very committed to the cause.”

“We all are.” Cypress smiled, “Actually, we wouldn’t be talking to you about this unless Tom gave us the OK. You’ve been a topic this last month.”

Alice chuckled, “I feel flattered, honestly.” Of course he would be the topic as of late, he was the most observant student in Hogwarts. A moniker that travelled back in time with him. For at least three months he’s unearthed so many hidden facts that Druella had taken and used as rumor material, in which the rumors were actually 100% true.

Cordelia Anisley had already left school in tears.

Alice wasn’t surprised one bit that people were talking about him. He was technically an enigma. The American transfer student who fit in perfectly with the Slytherins, hated justly by the Gryffindors, and made everyone else weary. His skills weren’t a secret, and even when people knew what he was capable of, it was still hard to hide their tics and tells in the public eye. Everyone was a book to Alice, a wide-open book that he enjoyed reading. And boy, did he read.

He read a lot more now than he did in the last two years at Hogwarts.

“So, do we have your interest?” Abraxas asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Only, if Riddle meets my demand.” Alice smiled pleasantly at them.

“He needs to ask me himself and say ‘ _pretty please_ ’.”

* * *

Whether or not Tom had received his demand was unknown to Alice, and for the next few days Alice went on with his days. It was different not having to worry about Quidditch for once and his life, and now he was left with more time to think than anything. He still thought about home, how the fifth year at Hogwarts in 1995 was going. Did they have another Defense Professor? Was Harry Potter being targeted by anyone else? How was Draco doing, given his situation? Was Severus keeping himself busy?

He needed to stop.

Thinking about the future did nothing for him. Wondering and worrying about his friends, his whispers in the air, didn’t do anything to help him heal. He was stuck here, in 1942. He had decades to go until he went back into that time. He should be thinking about establishing himself here, thinking about his future now. He was growing tired of mourning his loss. It wasn’t doing anything but giving him regrets.

Alice had effectively wore out a print in his crystal, the round bauble not so smoothly round anymore. It wasn’t black, or gray, but finally showing color. Gold. He grasped the crystal and felt the weight in his hand, un-grasping it and setting it down onto the table before him, over his Transfiguration essay. He was the only one that didn’t go to the Quidditch match, as far as he knew. Slytherin was playing Ravenclaw, but he couldn’t really put his heart in joining all the cheerful faces. Abraxas was disappointed, being a chaser. Gideon and Aidran were the beaters, naturally.

Their seeker was in seventh year, which made him think. Next year could be an exception, if everything went by smoothly. Abraxas would enjoy that, wouldn’t he?

His thoughts soon went onto Tom, only because he could feel those telltale eyes on him. With no one else in the common room he knew it was him. Tom didn’t seem like a Quidditch person. “Not at the game?” He said aloud, not turning to acknowledge the Prefect.

“I always forget that you know when eyes are on you.” Tom mused, quirking a small smile. “No, I’m not all that interested in the sport. Apparently, neither are you, as you are here.”

Alice finally turned, the crystal in his hands. “Actually, I’m a Quidditch player myself.” He straddled the back of his chair, leaning against the top of it and settling his chin on his forearm.

Tom didn’t sit, still analyzing everything Alice said. “Which position do you play?” He asked in feigned interest.

“Chaser…beater...keeper...seeker.” Alice said them slowly, smirking. “I was taught the whole gambit.”

“Not everyone does that.”

“I was trained differently.”

Alice went back down to look at his bauble, smiling as the color began to change again. It was bluegreen now, for once in his life. He was relaxed.

Tom noticed the color changing bauble, quirking a brow. “I always see you with that, may I ask what it is?”

Alice smiled, still looking at it. “A dear gift from a very close friend.” He said wistfully. “It’s a mood crystal, which changes depending on my mood.”

“For someone who schools their emotions, I would assume that you wouldn’t want a giveaway.” Tom smirked, Alice wasn’t the only one who could read people.

Alice looked up at him. “I didn’t like it at first, when it was given to me I put it away and didn’t touch it. I only began playing with it months before the accident. It’s the last thing I have left of my past life.”

It was a sentimental gift.

Tom had this strange desire to take that away from him.

Alice continued looking at it, not giving Tom the time of day before finally looking up. “How far have you gotten in your Transfiguration essay?” He asked then, looking to change the subject. The crystal was now blue in his fingers.

Tom decided to ignore the bauble for now. “I’m already finished...wait…” He chuckled slightly. “It’s due _Monday_. Why are you working on it now?”

Today was Saturday.

Alice grinned sheepishly at him, “I’m better at the practical than the theory. I’m halfway done with it, I’m sure to be finished by nightfall.”

For a boy who had high marks in his best classes, he was a horrible student. Tom went over to look over his essay, noting the small mistakes here and there but not saying anything about them. This sounded like a good time to bring up something he’d been thinking about, remembering what Cypress had said to him earlier that week. Of course, he wouldn’t exactly say what Alice wished for him to say, that was just asinine. “Have you thought over my Knights’ request?”

Alice had turned to the front of the chair once more, looking up at Tom casually. At the question he smiled widely, all teeth. “If you do it word for word, I might consider.”

There were many times when Alice impressed Tom, many occasions when the boy’s talents piqued his curiosity and interest, and multiple accounts when he was fascinated with the other. Yet, there were many times when Alice was just plain infuriating.

This was one of those times.

Tom’s eye twitched just slightly, “I’m not going to lower myself to placate your ego--”

“Is it so hard to say _please_?” Alice interrupted, another thing that annoyed him. “It’s pretty simple, Tom. It just slides off the tongue ever so smoothly.”

Alice knew damn well that taunting a future dark lord wasn’t a good idea, but being a pain in the ass to Voldemort was a fun prospect that he couldn’t pass up. If the Dark Lord wanted him to make nice with his past self, then he was going to get Alice’s raw unrestrained personality. Besides, he had nothing to lose. Not anymore.

Tom’s hands twitched, wanting to just strangle him just slightly, he was losing his cool and he knew Alice knew that. He didn’t know why Alice knew it, but the boy was getting his kicks from it. His face didn’t betray him, however, still looking at Alice with an outward appearance of cold regard. The longer he looked, the more he finally noticed how blue Alice’s eyes were, ice, they were cold. He grinned slightly, their eyes locking. It wouldn’t hurt just to take a look, would it?

Alice should have expected that the boy was a Leglimens at such a young age, it sounded practically logical, and yet here he was, staring Tom down and daring him to do something. He felt the touch within his mind like a serpent’s tongue, and he averted his eyes immediately.

Shit.

Alice continued to avoid Tom’s eyes, pretending that his homework was more important and trying to focus on his essay.

What did he see?

Something must have caught his attention, something important, because suddenly he felt a wand tip pressing against his head.

_“Imperio.”_

Alice completely dazed, all of his worries and thoughts seemed to just melt away into this serene calm that enveloped his mind. It felt nice, actually, it felt better than anything he had been put through. He felt strong hands turning him forcefully and his eyes met with Tom’s again, hearing a swift command to not look away. Alice didn’t see any problem in that, allowing it to happen. That prodding was back in his mind, the slick serpent tongue licking at everything. In front of him, Tom’s face seemed to twitch, emotions carding through his features and unable to settle on a single one.

The door burst open suddenly, yelling and cheering filling the room. Whatever pleasant haze he felt now had been ripped away quickly, and Alice sat there, blinking obliviously as Tom shoved himself out of the room. Alice briefly wondered what just happened until his focus came upon the group of Slytherins, Abraxas and Gideon, Adrian, all of them grinning from ear to ear.

“You missed it, Kitten. It was a right pummeling!” Abraxas called out over the cheering.

“Break out the firewhiskey!” Cypress joined in, hooking his arms around both beaters.

Alice looked back at his Transfiguration essay, and listening to the party that was taking place. He had to turn it in by Monday.

Suddenly, Abraxas’s arms hooked around Alice’s neck. “Leave it!” He urged, grabbing his arm to pull him away.

Alice took out his wand to quickly spell everything back into his bag before anything could happen. It was a party, things were liable to get destroyed.

The party lasted for hours, and Alice realized just then that the firewhiskey in this time was a lot stronger than his own, feeling the effects now than when he had it at the Yule Ball. By midnight, everyone was pleasantly shitfaced and many of the students went off to bed to sleep out their oncoming hangovers. Alice sat with Abraxas on the couch, shoulder to shoulder with the last of the firewhiskey, both of them taking turns at the bottle.

“You should have been there, next time you’re coming to watch us.” The blonde told him, handing off the bottle.

Alice felt warm and cozy from the whiskey, giggling just slightly. “If I felt any better in September I would have been playing with you.”

Abraxas grinned, “You never told me your position.”

Alice smiled, “Whatever position you want me in.”

He didn’t notice Abraxas’s face color at the statement, continuing. “I was taught to be whatever position, I’m normally chaser, but I just love being seeker. I’m a subpar beater and a well to do keeper.”

“Perhaps you could become seeker next year. “I’ll put a word in with Crockett, he’ll appreciate you.” Abraxas laid a hand on Alice’s leg, squeezing reassuringly. At least, that’s what Alice thought. It was hard to focus or read anything when he was three sheets to the wind. He was well relaxed, still fumbling his bauble with his free hand. It was purple for the first time ever. He giggled at that, turning to Abraxas, “You know--”

Alice was cut off quickly when lips crushed against his, a desperate kiss that was fuelled only by alcohol yet contained honest intent. Alice dropped the whiskey bottle, quickly forgotten as he leaned into the kiss and hooked his arms around the other. It went on for so long that eventually they had to break it so they could breathe. Alice leaned his forehead against Abraxas’s, both of them watching the other as they breathed.

“I didn’t know...” Alice trailed off.

“You do now.” The blonde smirked at him, leaning in again and now Alice was prepared for it, closing his eyes and giving in to it. The bauble in his hand was becoming red, his hand grasping it tightly as they continued, Alice moving onto his knees and shifting in the couch so that he was straddling the other. It was a nicer position, sitting against the other boy and snogging. They seemed to lose time and Abraxas was growing bolder, his hands slipping under Alice’s shirt, making the noirette groan.

The common room door suddenly slammed shut, jolting them both out of their moment and Alice winced harshly, both of them turning to see Tom staring unwaveringly at them for a moment, his jaw set, narrowing his eyes just slightly before he finally decided to pass them and head to the dormitory. Alice blinked, unable to understand what just happened.

“How long were we here?” He questioned.

Abraxas checked his watch, flushed, “Fuck, it’s 1:30.”

Alice broke into a breathy laugh, finally getting off of him before Abraxas pulled him back, grinning. “There’s no need to stop now…”

“LIGHTS OUT!” A voice suddenly snarled from the doorway, and Alice jumped again, effectively falling off of the couch. Abraxas groaned and shook his head, standing up finally.

“Do as he says.” He said with a hint of annoyance.

Alice nodded and got up, finally going back to his bookbag and heading into the dorm room. He felt scathing eyes on him the whole time he prepared himself for bed, the feeling stopping once the curtains were shut.

* * *

He was sent here for him, that’s what he got out of those memories. His future self gifted this boy as a present. Alice Blackwood was here for _him_. His entire backstory was a lie, his bloodline was a farce. They were eerily similar and yet different all the same. Down to the hatred for their fathers and the name they were given. The first prod into his memories was just out of curiosity, just harmless fun, he just never expected what he had found. He had to do it, he had to see the entirety of Alice’s memories, the entirety of what he saw stunning him in a way he never expected. This boy wasn’t from here at all, but from the future. Knowing the future was taboo in itself, but Tom went beyond taboo in everything he did. What he learned was something that would carry with him, everything he saw, everything that had happened. His future self had already met Alice and had deemed it necessary to send him to where the boy was needed most. A boy with astounding talents that could only be brought by years of horrible, strict parenting and a life that wasn’t meant to be his. They were both on the same plane, they were both equals, only their paths were completely different entirely.

And now he was here, unable to go back to that life that he loved so much. He was now in Tom’s domain, under his watchful gaze. If Alice Blackwood was sent to him then by God he wasn’t going to waste such a special gift. He only needed a few...touch-ups. The attachments to his past life would only hinder his progress, if he were to lose that, then he could be nurtured the right way. The boy would become better than he was. All he needed was the right moulding.

His acute senses told him that this boy was interesting, he just didn’t know by how much.

Tom’s eyes calmly trailed over towards Abraxas’s bed, remembering what he walked in on.

He’d take care of that.

* * *

Alice had a hangover, pure and simple.

As he looked over the Slytherin table, so did many others.

It felt like a vice in his brain, cutting him off and making him unable to think straight. Or think at all. He pushed the plate away and laid his head on the table, wishing he could be blind right now. The sunlight beaming into the room was too bright for him to handle.

Something nudged his shoulder, and Alice groaned, ignoring it. Whatever nudged him sighed and grasped Alice by his hair, raising his head up despite Alice’s yelp of protest. He clenched his teeth, glaring at the offender, unsurprised that it was Tom. It was always _Tom_.

“Eat or I’m forcing you.” He said simply, letting go of his hair. Alice glared at him, rubbing his hands to his face and sighing.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than to torment me?” His voice was rough.

Tom didn’t show anything, “No, not really.” He began to pile food onto Alice’s plate, fresh fruits and bread. “It’s only going to get worse if you go without. That’s why I don’t embibe, it makes your mind weak and vulnerable.”

“Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes “I Don’t Drink Alcohol” _motherfucking asshole_ \--” Alice continued to mumble, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “Allow the rest of us to have a good time.”

Tom rested his head in his hand, watching him. “Just for that, you’re not allowed to drink anymore.” He smirked.

Alice turned to him, enraged. “You don’t tell me what to do.” He hissed out. It was reminiscent of Draco and his jealousy, but it was vastly different. Tom was doing it out of spite, daring Alice to be petty about it.

“I believe I just did.” Tom smiled at him. It looked wrong on that face, as if Satan smiled at him instead.

Alice’s eye twitched, grabbing the pumpkin juice right in between them and pouring it over his head.

Whatever activity was going in at the Slytherin table stopped instantly, utensils clattering onto plates as all eyes were fixated on what just happened. Tom was drenched, juice dripping off of his face and uniform while Alice glared at him before getting up and storming off. There were murmurs that took up the table, Tom’s Knights staring in complete shock.

Alice didn’t mind being petty if it meant sending Tom a message, what was he going to do? Throw a Cruciatus at him in the hallway? He smirked, turning the corner.

The pain within his head suddenly exploded and Alice collapsed instantly, screaming out in agony until passing out completely.

* * *

The pain was gone by the time Alice woke up, his vision blurry as he stared up at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing. He groaned, feeling his forehead and trying to recall what had happened.

His hangover exploded in his brain…

“About time.” Said a bored voice. Alice grimaced and looked to his right, spotting Tom sitting next to his bed, idly playing with his mood crystal. The color was alternating, flickering in his hands, from orange to purple, as if it couldn’t decide. Alice grit his teeth and reached for it, only for Tom to hold it out of Alice’s reach.

“Say _please_.” His voice dripped with saccharine.

Alice narrowed his eyes, “Please.” He spat venomously.

Tom hesitated for a while, looking smug while finally handing it back. “I found you in the corridor. I just hated to leave you, sprawled out on the floor like that.”

_Yeah, sure_. Alice pocketed the crystal, sitting up further only to experience vertigo.

“I wouldn’t move too suddenly if I were you, Madam Peppercorn gave you some heavy potions.”

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Alice questioned.

Tom fixated a look of shock, “Why Alice, it’s already past dinner time. You missed the entire day.”

The vertigo came back when he tried to get up, but Tom put a firm hold on his shoulder and pulled him back into the bed. “What did I tell you? Quit ignoring me.”

Alice lashed out, batting his arm away. “I know it was you.” He hissed out, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t play fucking innocent when I know you’re not.”

Tom leaned back, still calm. “What did I do, Alice?” It was the first time Tom ever used his name, it sounded different from his mouth. Alice tried not to think about it, still fixated on his anger.

“Am I the only one who sees through you?” He asked then. “Am I the only one who doesn’t buy your act? You hide yourself well, Riddle. I have trouble reading you and when I finally can I know it’s all false. You make people see what you want to believe, and only people who hide themselves know it’s because it’s for a good damn reason.”

Tom waited for him to stop, listening to Alice’s ramblings and grinning inwardly. Oh, this was a good change from the norm. He wasn’t even close to Dumbledore, he was much more interesting than Dumbledore. “You’re trying to see something that isn’t there,” He finally told him, smiling again. “The potions must be making you delusional, you’re talking nonsense, Alice.”

“Quit saying my name.” Alice bit out.

“Madam Peppercorn!” Tom got up then, heading over for the desk. “Alice is awake now, perhaps I can assist him back to the dungeons. I believe he would prefer to rest in his own bed.”

The matron scurried on over and took a look at Alice, “Oh, my, you’ve been out for a while now, Mr. Blackwood.” She took out her wand to scan him, pursing her lips. “Yes, yes, there seems to be nothing wrong with you anymore. Are you still feeling vertigo from the potion I gave you?”

Alice couldn’t stop glaring at Tom, fixing on a fake smile for the nurse. “I believe it’s not as bad, not anymore. Did I really miss the entire day or was Riddle just toying with me?”

Tom smirked, watching Alice switch on his own mask and act perfectly fine with the old woman. _Pot and kettle, Alice_. He stood patiently as they made their niceties, stepping forward when Madam Peppercorn had finally left. “So what were you saying about falsities?” He asked, amused.

Alice’s pleasant visage was gone in an instant, slowly getting out of bed and refusing to answer him, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his wand. He swayed when he stood up, and immediately he felt Tom’s hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady.

They left the hospital wing quietly, Alice still fuming over what had happened.

“I provided Professor Dumbledore with your essay.” Tom informed him, trying to make small talk.

Alice grunted, wrenching his shoulder out of the other’s grasp. Moving quickly seemed to counteract his intent, and he began to sway again, almost falling into the stairwell until Tom caught him by the arm. He was surprisingly strong, holding him there, letting Alice lean over the flight of stairs as if he could let go at any moment.

“Apologize.” Tom demanded.

“Apologize for what?” He hissed out, trying to wrench himself away.

“Either apologize to me for what you did in the great hall or perhaps you’ll just take a tumble down every flight of stairs we run into.” Tom grinned widely. “Take your pick, Alice. I'm willing to take you to the seventh floor just to make sure you get the point.”

Alice felt sick, hanging on just by the grace of Tom Ridde’s iron grasp. He was too weak to try to fight him off at that moment, so of course he’d use it to his advantage. He bared his teeth, glaring at the floor below. “Sorry.” It was a very, very, quiet mumble.

“Excuse me, what?” Tom quirked his head, “Say that again?”

“I said SORRY!” He snarled, and suddenly he was wrenched backwards. Alice cried out, unable to stop himself from falling on his arse, wincing as he did and letting his head fall back. The vertigo came back heavily this time, and all he could see was multiple versions of Tom Riddle standing over him and smirking like he won a battle of wits.

Tom bent over him, staring Alice dead in the face. “Embarrass me again and it will be worse for you, understand?”

Alice shut his eyes, sighing tiredly. This definitely wasn’t Draco. He couldn’t be petty with this boy. Not if he wanted to keep breathing. When he opened his eyes again Tom’s hand was extended, a silent offer. Alice took it quietly, allowing the boy to help him back up. He swayed once he righted himself, almost running into him until Tom firmly grasped his shoulders.

“We’re going to establish a few rules.” He said then, helping him down the steps. “First one is obvious. No more drinking. It slowly rots your mind and I refuse to deal with the aftermath. Second one is that you’re going to pay attention in your classes--”

“Who the fuck are you to make rules for me to follow?” Alice scowled, glaring at him.

“The third one is that you’re not to get cozy with anyone,” He continued, as if Alice didn’t say anything. “That display between you and Abraxas, that will not happen again.”

“Excuse me?” Alice’s voice rose. He managed to rip himself away from Tom, stumbling back but gaining his bearings quickly. “I am not your puppet, you can’t just think you can control me!”

Tom watched him, smiling a little. “Actually, I can.” He stepped forward then, watching as Alice stepped back, it continued until Alice couldn’t back away anymore, pressed against the wall. “You see, I know who you are.” He continued to close the gap. “I know why you’re here.”

Alice felt that sickness in his stomach, a black feeling twisting in his gut.

“You were sent here for me, Alice. And you made sure to show me just what you’re capable of doing these past few months.” He was still smiling, it still didn’t look natural. “That means, you belong to me, and you’re mine to deal with as I please.” He managed to grin then, boxing Alice into the space he was in. “You have no say in this, you lost your life as soon as you kneeled before me, all those years in the future.”

Alice’s hands were twitching, his breathing was heavy and he could hear his heartbeat louder than it was before. Tom had seen it. He had seen everything.

Son of a bitch.

Tom continued, taking out his wand and placing it under Alice’s chin, tipping his head back up. “You see, we’re quite similar. From everything that I saw, our lives were vastly different, but the outcomes are quite mirrored.”

“We’re nothing alike.” Alice hissed out.

“If you wish to believe that, I won’t stop you.” He smirked, his eyes glittering. “I know the truth. Everything inside that head of yours, it doesn’t hide anything like you try to. You’re curious, you crave the unknown, you’re willing to put yourself into dangerous situations just to see the outcome. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t your fascination with _power_.” He trailed the wand down, training it on Alice’s adams apple. “It’d be a shame to waste such a wonderful opportunity, you and I both know that this can go one of two ways, but your death isn’t something I wish to think about.”

Alice swallowed thickly, feeling the wand tip on his throat. “You’re not going to kill me.”

“That would be counterproductive to what my future self wished of me, Alice. Killing the very gift that I sent myself? That’s just silly. No, Alice, you’re going to live for _a very long time_.” Tom took in Alice’s facial features, the flickers of emotion that was managing to crack out of that mask. Relief, dread, uncertainty. It wasn’t as interesting as his eyes, though, how they betrayed his schooled features, giving him all the emotions he needed. “I never really took stock to finding a second, but I seemed to have convinced myself otherwise.”

Alice didn’t answer, they were too close. Tom wasn’t shorter than him at all, he was nearly the same height, yet he felt smaller in his presence. It was the same feeling he felt when he stood before Voldemort. He presented himself as if he were larger than life. Because he believed he was above everyone.

Tom traced his wand down at Alice’s chest, watching the rise and fall of it. If he pressed his hand against it, he could feel the heartbeat, how fast it was. Not now, he thought, there was more time for that later. This was about setting the rules. “You’re not going to leave my side, I hope you understand that. We’re going to become the _best of friends_.”

Alice winced. Best friends was meant for people worthy of his friendship, people who earned it. Draco was his only best friend, it would never be Tom. This wasn’t a friendship, it was forced.

Tom could practically read his mind, remembering the kinship he saw in Alice’s memories. He knew how to rectify that. “Now, we’re going back into the dungeons, and you’re going to go straight to bed. I don’t want you to miss out on your sleep, after such a tough day.”

Tom stepped away then, and Alice breathed a sigh of relief. The boy was holding his hand out expectantly, and Alice hesitated. “I’m able to walk.” He grated out.

The other dropped his hand, shrugging. “Suit yourself.”

Alice remained quiet as they went back down to the dungeons, unable to think straight. He wanted to think, to try to figure out a way out of this, but it was difficult to try. Fucking potion. When they finally made it into the Slytherin common room it was empty, everyone was already asleep. Tom was still at the door, watching Alice.

“I have Prefect duties, I hope to see you in bed when I get back.” He smiled again. “Goodnight.”

Tom left after that, and Alice stumbled to the couch and sank into it, closing his eyes when the vertigo overtook him.

“Fuck my life.” He breathed.

* * *

He was expectant to go to this Knights meeting, but it didn’t come. It was also nearing the end of the term. Today was finally the day before Winter Holiday, something Alice was quite eager about. Winter Holiday meant one thing and one thing only.

Freedom from Tom Riddle.

He would be back at Malfoy Manor, he would be able to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do, and he could spend time with Abraxas. The blonde had been distant following the night they were caught making out on the couch, and he had a feeling it was all Tom’s doing. He didn’t understand the sudden need that Alice were to have no sexual relationships, Tom never seemed like the kind of person who would go for that. Although, the longer he tried to analyze it the more he realized it wasn’t worth it. Tom was just possessive over his things.

Alice’s eye twitched at the thought. He was suddenly Tom’s _thing_. This was worse than Draco’s sudden need to try to control him, because that was only done out of jealousy. Tom was just narcissistic. It stood out with the new rules Alice was subject to.

No alcohol.

No intimacy with anyone.

No skiving off of your studies.

No skipping meals.

Alice felt like a cat. A glorified cat that was under a strict diet and made sure to keep his mind active. The only good side about this entire one-sided agreement was that he was being taught various dark arts spells. It was like Tom knew how intelligent he could be, and was making sure he reached his full potential. It was almost reminiscent of his father’s training, something he didn’t care for in the slightest.

Alice continued to think about it as he lazily chewed on his apple, aware of the plate of food that was looking back at him. He wasn’t even hungry today, and now he was being forced to eat. Sitting across from him was Abraxas, deep in a conversation with Cypress. Adrian and Gideon was to his right, discussing Quidditch while Tom was on his left. Word had already gotten out that Alice was practically Tom’s prison bitch now. The sudden thought made him snort in amusement, hiding it behind his hand. It wasn’t far from the truth, to be honest.

When dinner was finally done, Alice intended to go back to the common room and pack. It was routine, Tom took him back to the common room so he could do _whatever_ , Prefect duties or whatnot, and he was to work on his homework until he came back. Halfway towards the common room, however, Tom took him to a different corridor inside the dungeons that he wasn’t aware about.

“Is this where you kill me and bury the body?” Alice questioned, “Because I would prefer to do that right now.”

He was met with a silence that picked up some hints of annoyance to Alice’s snide comments. Alice smiled brightly nonetheless. “I’m sure no one would miss me, really. All you have to do is utter the magic words.”

Despite being practically enslaved to the boy, getting under his nerves was his only entertainment.

Tom had the patience of a champion.

The finally crossed a door, a simple black wooden door. It looked inconspicuous, almost invisible if you weren’t looking for it. Tom opened it up and held it for Alice, “After you.” He said in a sickenly sweet tone.

Alice really hoped this was his death day party.

There were already people inside. Abraxas, Gideon, Adrian, Cypress, and Dorian. They were waiting patiently, sat at a perfectly round table that held a silver polished tea set. Alice rolled his eyes.

_Knights of the round table._

There were two empty seats at the table, one next to Dorian and one next to Adrian. Tom led him to the seats and pulled out the one next to Dorian. Alice sat down, folding his arms on the table. This should be interesting.

“Welcome, Knights. As you can see, we have a new face.”

Everyone’s eyes were on Alice, and he shrugged.

“Before we get to any discussions,” Tom smirked Alice’s way, “It’s customary for the new members of this club to sacrifice something, as a show of loyalty. As you’ve now been voted in, you’re expected to comply to the ritual.”

Alice could feel the bauble in his pocket, too aware of it. “I don’t get a choice in this, do I?” He asked blandly, narrowing his eyes at Tom. Of course he didn’t.

“The voting was unanimous, everyone believes you’re necessary to our cause.” Dorian said with a slight grin.

Alice fully sighed. This was what everything had been culminating to, wasn’t it? That’s why he was here. He thought it over carefully. What was keeping him from refusing? Clearly he couldn’t be killed, so he could easily just leave. Leave and go back to the common room and go straight to sleep.

A voice in his head asked him about Professor Dumbledore, perhaps going to him to stop everything, but that idea was met with a cringe. He was too far down the rabbit hole to betray Tom now. Not without being outed himself. He’d become a prisoner of Azkaban easily, and there was no fucking way he was going to work for the side of good. Ultimately becoming what his father wished of him sounded sickening.

Alice knew he was trapped, and Tom knew it too.

“This show of loyalty...could it be anything?” Alice questioned then. The last thing he wanted to do was give up his only link to Draco. Tom could have him, Tom could have his loyalty, but this was where Alice crossed the line.

Tom thought about it, “What would you have in mind?” He knew Alice’s little crystal was in his pocket, it was the only thing he cared about.

Alice smiled brightly, “Perhaps instead of giving you something I let you do something instead. Put me under the Cruciatus.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the table, and Dorian almost dropped his cup.

While Tom was after something else entirely, the alternative sounded just as nice. He smirked, giving him a show of considering it. “Only if you’re positive that’s what you want.”

Alice finally stood up, stretching. He already done this before, why not again? It wasn’t as bad when you were aware of what you were getting into. “I’m sure.” He said with a challenging smirk. “Unless that’s not enough for you.”

Tom chuckled, standing up from his seat. “Oh, that sounds like a good enough sacrifice.” He’d get that crystal another time, he thought. Passing up on this would be stupid. The two of them made their way to the other end of the room, and Alice was aware of the eyes directly on him. The tension in the air was clear, no one was expecting this to happen. Alice idly thumbed the bauble in his pocket before taking his hand out.

Tom took out his wand, “Kneel.” He demanded.

Alice chuckled, “Oh of course you would want that.” He slowly lowered himself onto his knees, bracing himself.

Alice kneeling at Tom’s feet was a good sight, he finally decided, pointing his wand at him, “ _Crucio_.”

Alice felt it, his body tensing up instantly as the flames came back into his veins, his body becoming alight with the painful fire that threatened to consume him. It felt different, this time around. It was more painful than the first time, and a scream escaped before he could hear it. He didn’t know when he collapsed, writhing in this excruciating pain that could drive him loony if it went on for too long. Perhaps this was going to go wrong, perhaps his mind would melt right then and there. He was on fire, he was electrified, he was in every sense of the word engulfed in the worst feeling imaginable. Why did he agree to do this again? Oh right, he was a fucking masochist.

When it finally let up a feeling of relief washed over him. He found himself laughing again. Why was he laughing? This happened once before, the high pitched hysterical cackles that escaped him, as if it was a natural reaction to being tortured. He couldn’t really think about it, or he didn’t want to. When the laughter died down he was settled in the aftermath of his life choices, his muscles stiff and his veins burning. He felt like he was struck by every thunderbolt imaginable. He stared up at Tom, managing to grin despite himself.

Maybe he was mad.

Tom looked stricken. Seeing it in Alice’s memories was different than experiencing it in reality. The way he laughed, it was almost haunting. It was something that wasn’t going to leave him, the boy staring down at Alice and watching him fucking _grin_ . Who would grin after extreme torture? He was _beautiful._

Tom eventually helped him to his feet, and Alice limped back into the chair, met with astounded and uncomfortable stares, as if they had witnessed a transformation. Alice let out a ragged sigh, reaching for his teacup. “Someone fill me up.” He asked shakily.

Dorian quickly took the kettle and tipped it for Alice, seemingly unnerved. He looked...intimidated? Alice couldn’t understand that. There was a sliver of fear and uncertainty, and an air of realization as to why Tom was so interested in Alice’s being.

“No one willingly takes a Cruciatus, Kitten.” Abraxas said in his own unease. “You acted like you enjoyed it…” The inflection was full of awe.

Alice felt uncomfortable right away, avoiding the stares and clearing his throat.

Tom could only smile, “I believe the sacrifice has proven his worth. All that’s left is the mark.”

_“He wouldn’t enjoy that you’re already marked.”_

Alice remembered those words, idly feeling his left forearm.

_Time to cement yourself in the past._

* * *

Alice was packed and ready to go, the fresh pain on his left forearm keeping him wide awake in the morning. It was still raw, and he had spent an hour staring at it the night before. He caught Abraxas in the common room, grinning brightly at the blonde and going over to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m ready to go back when you are.”

Abraxas turned around, looking at him oddly for a moment before glancing around. “Hasn't Tom told you?” He questioned.

Alice’s smile faltered. “Told me what?”

Abraxas frowned, “I was told to inform mother that you were staying at the castle. Tom wishes for you to keep him company.”

His right eye twitched, the smile becoming forced now, and he suddenly felt like punching a certain dark-eyed boy in the face. “He said all that, did he?”

Abraxas looked apologetic, stepping away, “I would wish you good luck, but you already know how he is.”

Alice bared his teeth once Abraxas had left, sitting down onto the couch and stewing in his anger. Punching him sounded so fucking nice right now, perhaps kneeing the boy in the gut or kicking him. He sighed after that, leaning back against the couch and frowning.

Tom would clearly punish him for it.

Alice felt the bauble in his pocket, thinking about it carefully…a slow grin forming on his face.

Tom wouldn’t ever kill him, meaning the pain he would experience after lashing out would be so very worth it.

Alice proceeded to make his way into the great hall, keeping the bauble in his hand. It was purple, the color of purpose and clarity. He quirked a grin as he strolled in, finding Tom conversing with another Prefect.

“Hey Riddle.” Alice called out, smiling.

Tom finally glanced his way, and Alice suddenly stilled, their eyes meeting for long enough that Tom gave him a mocking smile, as if daring him to do what he had in mind.

“Yes, Alice?”

_Be petty, Alice, please, you’ll see what happens._

Alice narrowed his eyes, he was _expecting_ this. Tom was clearly daring him. He kept it a secret for a reason.

His clenched fist shook slightly before relaxing, the two of them staring at each other until Alice finally gave in and passed the Prefect on his way to the Slytherin table.

The Ravenclaw Prefect blinked owlishly, looking at Tom. “What was that about?”

Tom smiled winningly, “He’s just so excited to spend Christmas with his best friend.”

* * *

Alice did his best to avoid him during the holiday, but after the first three days Tom felt like tailing Alice until the boy finally gave up. Instead of enjoying the holiday and doing whatever he wanted, he was now stuck with Tom as the boy took him around Hogwarts, searching for something that he refused to talk about.

“At least humor me.” Alice griped, crossing his arms as Tom was looking over the fourteenth room in the castle. He seemed to be marking them down, leaving subtle X marks under the placards.

“I rather leave it as a surprise.” Tom said distractedly, “The walls have ears, Alice.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“I mean, whatever you’re looking for could possibly go by faster if I were assisting you.” Honestly, at this point he wanted something to do, just following along like a child was getting boring.

Tom seemed to be thinking about it, weighing the options. “Look for snakes.” He said then.

That wasn’t very descriptive, but Alice shrugged, going about the room and looking around carefully. He was good at noticing details, so the task didn’t sound hard enough. After that room Tom crossed it off, both of them entering another. It repeated itself for three hours, and there wasn’t any sign of what Tom was looking for.

Alice looked at his watch, sighing. It was late, and there were still no sign of snakes. “We should go eat, call it a night.”

“Go ahead, I’ll catch up.” He still sounded distracted, but Alice wasn’t going to second guess Tom’s sudden urge to let him off his leash. He broke out into a relieved grin and left the room, heading downstairs to the great hall and taking a seat. In the middle of eating he felt eyes on him again, finally looking up to see Professor Dumbledore regarding him quietly from a short distance, the man approaching him calmly.

“Good evening, Mr. Blackwood.” He greeted kindly, “I take it your transition into Hogwarts is faring well? You seem less...moody.” His eyes sparkled, which seemed to be a running theme with Dumbledore. Alice smiled at him, a pretty fake one.

“Yes, time heals all wounds, or so I’m told.”

The professor nodded, “I hear that Tom Riddle has taken an interest in you. He’s quite a resourceful young man…”

Alice shrugged, “He’s...a friend.” He already knew where this was going, Dumbledore wasn’t a fan of Tom, it was clearly obvious.

“I suppose I don’t have to worry about you making any friends, but Alice, I believe you could be pursued by a troubled boy. Tom isn’t as innocent as you might think. I have been meaning to speak to you for quite some time, but you seem to never be without the boy.”

Alice snorted in amusement. Innocent, Tom. That sounded hilarious. He listened to Dumbledore quietly, feeling a presence behind the older wizard.

“Alice, I knew I’d find you here.” Tom sounded forced, and so was the smile on his face, the boy passing Dumbledore with a cool detachment. “What are you talking about?” He asked innocently.

“I was just reflecting on Mr. Blackwood’s recent transfiguration essay.” Dumbledore lied like a pro, “It was well worth the marks it had gotten.”

Tom looked over at Alice, silently asking for the truth. Alice met his calm eyes with a shrug, “I’ve been getting a lot of help from Riddle with my homework. I’m not surprised my written work is improving.”

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. “You’re a bright and talented young man, Mr. Blackwood, I hate for your talents to be sullied. Have you ever thought of your future? You could become a very promising Auror.”

Tom narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’m quite sure Alice knows where his future lies, Professor.” He finally moved to sit next to him, and Alice felt a strong hand on his waist. He blinked bewilderedly at the sudden touch, “He and I are planning a quite similar future.”

Alice opened his mouth and closed it again, realizing that Tom was now sitting a little too close and that hand was now slipping around his waist. His mind was flying, what was he conveying to the man?

Dumbledore watched on and took in the subtle gestures, how Tom practically coiled around Alice like a possessive snake. It wasn’t something he expected but he nodded in understanding anyway, leaving the table. Alice Blackwood was too far in to be saved.

Right as Dumbledore left Tom was suddenly sitting away from Alice, the possessive arm around his waist suddenly gone and the boy went about dinner as if nothing happened. He couldn’t help but stare at him, still trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

“It’s not polite to stare.” Tom then said to him, still not looking his way.

Alice finally looked away, grumbling to himself and resuming his meal.

* * *

Manipulating people wasn’t much of a challenge, until you get to someone that’s stronger than the rest. The hardest ones were always fascinating, and it required him to think of new ways to use his talents. Breaking your victims was satisfying, though only for a moment. The downside in breaking those unfortunate souls was that they would lose his interest quickly, for they were finally broken to the point of unyielding compliance. The challenge would leave quickly, and so would his fascination. Though, what he used to deal with were unworthy of his attention and just a passing fancy.

Now he was given a hidden gem. A boy who didn’t buy into his facade, a boy who knew what he was looking at. Icy cold eyes that held a blazing fire inside of him, almost burning if he dared to touch it. The thought of breaking this gift to him was tempting, but he worried about him becoming like the rest, eventually discarded because he just didn’t bounce back. He wasn’t afraid to argue, he wasn’t afraid to lash out, he was more animated and always stared at him with anger, as if Tom ripped away his life out from under him. In a way, he did. Alice Blackwood had the kind of personality that mixed well with his own, and it was a pity that Tom admitted he would never kill him. Either way, the boy wasn’t afraid of him, death wasn’t something he could be threatened with.

Fear was clearly out of the option. Alice could never fear him, pain seemed to bring out something else entirely. That laughter he heard after putting Alice under the Cruciatus was like a choir of angels in a cathedral. It was a reaction that was unexpected, but not disappointing. No, it was quite the opposite. No one would laugh after being put through so much pain, unless they were mad. The thought was delightful, that Alice could just be a little mad, but no, he was sound in his mentality, perfectly _sane_.

To successfully manipulate someone you must go after their weaknesses, in which Alice showed little. Only, after re-thinking a certain night, there was at least one. The boy was desperate for contact, touch and intimacy. He was alone in a strange land and craved a companion. It wasn’t the route he would prefer to go down, but he figured he’d have to get his hands dirty to get what he wanted. His attention to the boy would only cement his loyalties to him and him alone. While breaking sounded wonderful, he was forced to just bend him as far as he could go.

Lest the fire die out in those eyes.

* * *

The day after Christmas was when things were starting to get strange. Alice often wondered if he was overthinking everything, but it was impossible to think it was all accidental after the fifth time it happened. The actions were subtle, hands accidentally coming into contact, brushing of the shoulders, the moments when Tom was way too close for his liking. It was honestly confusing him. As if the one incident in front of Professor Dumbledore was spiraling into something else.

Logically, it would never happen. Tom wasn’t the type. Alice might be, but Tom came off as a person who wouldn’t even bother with anything like that. He was far too self-obsessed. Alice was overthinking things, and that was what he decided was true. He thought nothing more of those small incidents, well into January.

It was nearing February and Alice was aching to go to Hogsmeade that Saturday, but at the same time he knew it was a slim chance. He hadn’t gone to Hogsmeade ever since Tom laid his claim on him. He was too busy in the castle, looking for whatever he was looking for. Alice would be forced to tag along, Tom having decided that Alice’s eyes were worth helping him in his task. He was tired of looking for Tom’s secret, the castle was large and it had too many rooms, there couldn’t be any way of knowing what was where.

Alice was propped up onto an empty table that Saturday, deciding to lie on his back rather than join Tom in his snooping, rolling the crystal around in his fingers. It was white. A particularly safe color to be on. He was bored, it was clear as day. He idly thought about Draco, and Harry, his mind wandering down the future that wasn’t woven. If he was still home, he’d be in Hogsmeade, and given the day, he’d be spending it with Draco. A faint smile curved up his lips and he chuckled, imagining just how a proper Valentines Day would be spent with his best friend. Of course, Pansy would be making subtle hints, perhaps she’d rope Blaise and Theodore in tricking the two of them into a room alone together. He imagined a little too much for his liking, the crystal changing into a coral pink.

Someone cleared their throat, and Alice was snapped out of his fantasy world into the present, blinking up at those telltale dark eyes that stared down at him accusingly.

“You sounded perfectly content with your daydream.” Tom kept his eyes on him, glancing up and noticing the pink hue of the bauble. It hadn’t been that color before. The longer Alice played with it the more aggravated he became. It was a distracting object that was tied to his past, tied to another boy that Alice wasn’t shy about his affections with. The same boy that mirrored Abraxas Malfoy in looks and attitude. The last link to his past, to a world he didn’t belong to anymore.

He needed to sever that link.

“Are you finished yet?” Alice finally spoke, clearly annoyed that he was back in Tom’s presence. He was always bothered with him. Alice clearly had his loyalties skewed. He was here for a reason, yet his loyalties were still with the grandson of one of his followers. Tom processed that quietly, slipping his wand from his sleeve.

“No, not exactly.” He replied, “There’s a few small details that need to be finalized before we leave this room.”

Alice sighed. “Do I really need to be here for this? You seem to be perfectly capable of this yourself. I can still go to Hogsmeade and meet with Abraxas.”

“You’re staying here.”

Tom left his view then and Alice groaned in frustration. He was trapped in a room with Tom the slavedriver. It’s a wonder that they were getting along as much as they did, although being bossed around by the other and sucking it up wasn’t exactly getting along, was it? He reflected back on when Draco first tried to tell him who he or he could not date, wondering idly what their relationship would be if Alice wasn’t a petty person. Everything would have probably been different, fourth year might have been different. He could have probably went to the Yule Ball with Draco instead of Harry. That thought was nice.

Alice was met with those eyes again, “What now?”

“ _Obliviate._ ”

Alice’s mind went blank, staring up at Tom confusedly, he couldn’t recall what he was thinking about, the memories he was reminiscing on. The blonde boy in his memories was nothing but a passing blur. Everything was a blur for at least two years. Unrecognizable faces and people, multiple moments that were blank to him. Who…

“ _Reficio._ ”

Alice blinked, the memories coming back as if they hadn’t left, remembering Draco easily. How much they loathed each other. Why was he thinking about a boy that hated his entire being? Not him, either, Draco’s little gang didn’t care for him that much. Harry Potter, either, the Gryffindor was just so abhorrent. He glanced at the glass bauble, forgetting where he got it from entirely. He rolled it in his fingers, the color turning brown in hue.

“Alice,” Came Tom’s voice, and Alice tilted his head back, coming into view with Tom. “Where did you find that interesting looking sphere?” He asked then.

Alice looked back at the bauble and frowned, not knowing anything more. He just had it, it was just there. “I...don’t know, really.” He said finally, perplexed.

“Mind if I have it?” Tom’s voice sounded perfectly content, which was rare. Alice thought about his question and shrugged, handing it over to his friend. Even if it was forced, Tom was the closest thing to a friend that he ever had in his years of living, wasn’t he?

“I guess. It’s not really that important anyway.”

Tom took the crystal and smiled, looking down at it. The colors whirled around, finally settling on orange. He nodded to himself and placed it in his pocket.

Creating memories was easier than he thought it’d be.

* * *

Severing the link had a drastic change in Alice’s demeanor. He was less distracted and more attentive. He responded to Tom with less malice. It was as if they had bonded without ever having to do anything, and all it took was Tom taking away the memories that Alice harped on the most. He didn’t feel guilty over what he did. It was cathartic and helped Alice move on and do what he was meant to be here for.

It also gave Alice a reason to think about the subtle gestures that Tom was giving, other than the boy ignoring them entirely. He was starting to see progress. The slight coloration on his cheeks, sudden bouts of nervous wording, the breathing and heart rate increase. Tom was curious one day, deciding to press his hand on his chest to feel the reaction, receiving an elevated heart rate as the other tried to figure out what was going on. It was clear on Alice’s face, that Tom was touching him for more reasons than _just because he can_.

They were nearing mid-April now, and Tom’s search had still gone unhindered. They had successfully went up to the fifth floor, but it was still no use. Alice was sitting on the table, now sketching in his notebook. His sketchings were worth his talents, and there were a fair few of pages with Tom as the subject itself. Alice was sketching him from the weekend before last, his quiet calculation while he and Cypress played wizards chess.

“Did you ever think…” Alice spoke up then, seemingly thoughtful, “That you’re looking in the wrong place?”

Tom shut the cupboard, “Hm?”

Alice looked up from his sketch, “We never tried the bathrooms, have we? We’ve completely bypassed those entirely.”

Tom watched him intently, processing what he was given.

Alice continued, still sketching the color into Tom’s hair. “We could have just passed it without noticing.” He looked up and Tom was suddenly in front of him, grinning up at Alice in an unknown emotion that Alice took to be excitement. This was the first he seen of Tom this way.

“Pack it up, we’re going back down to the first floor.”

* * *

The easiest way to inspect the girls bathrooms was to leave a notice on the door that said it was out of order, it made sure that no one came in while the two of them were searching. Alice actually felt like he was doing something now other than waiting, wondering just what his friend wanted to find. They had made it to the second floor and so far nothing, but the air around Alice told him that this might be where they needed to be.

Alice lingered at the taps, looking through them carefully. All of them worked but one. If he were anyone else, he could have missed it, but there was an inconspicuous snake carved into the tap. “I think I found it.”

Something clattered to the floor and Tom was at his side instantly, shoving Alice out of the way. He looked to where Alice’s eyes were once focused on, grinning.

Alice stepped away, stretching and giving a yawn. It was getting late. He began to think about his bed until he heard an abrupt hissing. He turned back, staring at Tom and yelping as the taps began to move. In the hidden center of the taps was an entrance, and Alice stepped over, lighting his wand to look down. It looked black, like he could drop a sickle down there and he wouldn’t hear it land for miles.

“We will need a broom.” Tom said finally, looking purely enthused.

* * *

The cavern was...breathtaking, honestly. If you ignored the mountain of bones that crunched under their shoes. They were dead silent, only their wands alight in the darkness as they followed the tunnel. Eventually they came upon a door, locked by two snakes.

Alice looked over at Tom curiously, watching him speak in that otherworldly hiss that sent a shiver down his spine. He tried not to linger on this ability that Tom suddenly had, it wouldn’t do well to lose focus. The door opened, as if on command, and Tom led them further into the chamber.

Natural light seemed to bathe the far end of the chamber, both of them walking between many snakehead statues surrounded by shallow water. He could hear the drips from above, echoing off the acoustics. “Is there something you want to tell me Tom?” Alice finally broke the silence, looking at his friend.

“I assume it’s pretty obvious at this point.” Tom was still grinning, looking along the impressive stone carvings. “I’m the Heir of Slytherin.”

Alice nodded, “Explains the hissing.” He said mostly to himself.

“You don’t understand, Alice, I’ve been looking for this chamber ever since I researched about my lineage. I knew it was somewhere, I never thought to check a girls bathroom. You’re about to be a witness to something great.”

Alice finally put out his wandlight, the two of them stopping to the far carving of a man’s face, Salazar himself. Alice should be more awestruck, but given what he knew about Voldemort, it wasn’t as amazing as he wanted it to be. Tom didn’t seem to mind at all, finally turning to Alice. “Did you bring what I requested?”

Alice dug into his pocket and pulled out the blindfold. “Am I going to be left here to rot?” He quipped, “If so you’ve chosen a beautiful resting place.”

Tom rolled his eyes and snatched the blindfold away, moving to blind Alice. “Don’t take this off.” He instructed, turning back to the face.

Alice just stood there, not understanding why he had to be blindfolded until the hissing was heard again. It still made him shiver and he had to pinch his hand to not to let his mind wander. It was considerably attractive, and that concerned him. He shouldn’t be attracted to Tom Ridde, must less Voldemort.

_But sometimes..._

Stone moving on stone came next and Alice was assaulted with many sounds, including a deeper, longer hiss that was met with Tom’s own hissing. It went on for at least five minutes, as if it was a pleasant conversation. He soon felt Tom’s hand on his wrist, the boy leading him somewhere. He felt hot air on his face, and then a slick tongue flicking him, as if to take in his essence. The deep hiss continued and Tom had replied, before the creature had begun to move on. All signs pointed to a large fucking snake.

“What kind of snake is that?” Alice asked eventually, taking off his blindfold. “I’m not allowed to look at it, why?”

Tom watched on as the creature had continued to roam the castle. “It’s a Basilisk. A deadly and frightening creature that kills by looking at its victims.” He glanced back at Alice. “I don’t want to take any chances, so I blindfolded you.”

“Not fair, I wanted to see the pretty snake.” Alice teased, “What’s it going to do?”

Tom smiled, “It’s going to rid the castle of mudbloods, that’s its intended purpose.” He felt energized, every nerve in his body tingling with excitement. This was the best feeling in the world as of yet. Tom grinned again, turning to Alice. “You can’t understand how I feel right now.”

Alice smiled slowly, taking in his mirth. “I can probably guess..” He trailed off, Tom stepping closer to him. Alice went to take a step back but decided against it.

Tom’s hands came to lay on his shoulders. “No, you don’t _understand_.” He breathed. Their faces were all too close, Alice realized, his cheeks darkening. He couldn’t look away from Tom’s eyes, caught in his stare like he was many times before. He could feel Tom’s breath on his cheek and then the boy chuckled, as if reading his thoughts.

Just like that it was instantly gone, and Tom wasn’t there anymore, away from him and heading down the hallway. “Let’s get back.” He commanded, “Before anyone realizes were gone.”

Alice swallowed thickly, trying to will away his sudden arousal. He followed quickly, trying to keep up. “Wait, why did it lick me?” Alice asked once he was caught up to Tom, effectively making him stop.

“She assumed I brought you to her as an offering, I had to specifically tell her that you were mine, and not to be touched.”

“She touched me anyway.” Alice pointed out.

Tom smirked at him, stepping closer to him now, his voice just a whisper. “She wanted to smell my concubine.”

The way he said it sent a shudder up his spine, one he couldn’t hide. Alice was met with a smug grin, Tom reaching up to cup Alice’s chin with his hand and moving to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t have the heart to correct her.”

With that he turned away, continuing his journey.

Alice’s legs were weak and he had to force himself to move, groaning slightly.

Of course a psycho would get turned on by the thought of death and mayhem.

* * *

True to his word, students began to be found petrified around the castle. Alice bared witness to the sudden attacks, all the while Tom played the perfect part of the concerned Prefect, playing innocent while Alice watched Hogwarts become terrified of an unknown beast. There wasn’t a death, however, until June.

It was Myrtle Warren, a third-year Ravenclaw muggleborn who was found dead in the very bathroom that he and Tom found the entrance to the chamber. Alice was slightly concerned that he didn’t feel any strong emotions towards the fact that Tom had finally killed a person, or that it was a death in general. In all honesty, he felt completely indifferent. However, Headmaster Dippet was looking for a culprit, and Tom decided to use his irresistible charm to lure everyone to the third-year Gryffindor Rubeus Hagid, the half-giant who had been harboring an acromantula all year. Again, Alice felt indifferent to the entire thing. Hagrid was expelled.

The day before everyone left Hogwarts Alice and Tom descended back into the chamber to put the beast back in its slumber, and to do something else entirely. With him that day was his diary, and Alice sat by, sketchbook in his lap while he took note of the inspiring glee that Tom had on his face. He knew exactly what Tom was doing, having been there as the boy asked Professor Slughorn about the subject.

It was an amazing sight, actually, creating his key to immortality made him look so alive, his face giving away his enraptured emotions. It was like a switch had been flipped and Tom was a different person entirely. Alice made sure to burn that image into his memory, the sight of him so elated beyond measure was eons different than his cool calculated calm. He didn’t say anything until the deed was done, turning his attention to his own sketch, trying to register that emotion onto paper with every flick of his pencil.

When he looked back up Tom had knelt down in front of him, staring him down. Alice watched, his eyes were intense, staring at him in a different way now. It was a ravenous look that made his limbs feel weak and tingles go up his spine. Alice quirked a nervous smile, “Tom--”

Alice’s breath was stolen away as lips descended onto his, and suddenly Tom’s weight was on him. Alice’s sketchbook tossed haphazardly to the side as the other descended onto him. His eyes were full of desire and Alice couldn’t help but let himself be drowned by them while Tom decided to take him completely; mind, body, and soul.

Indeed, death seemed to have an effect on Tom.

* * *

Alice was distracted the entire train ride, his memory flickering back to the night before. The sounds, sensations, whispers and cries. The passion and intensity. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to lose his virginity, but it was memorable. He ended up grinning after a while, lost in everything. Tom sat next to him, his features schooled as he continued to read whatever book he had in his possession. The Tom from last night and the Tom that sat right next to him were two different entities, to purely opposite ends of the spectrum. He decided he enjoyed the Tom from last night, wherein death and Horcrux creations inspired him to become passionate and possessive. Alice idly wondered when it would happen again.

“The rules still apply to your summer holiday.” Tom said to him, his eyes flickering to the side while Alice was daydreaming. “If I find out any of them have been broken, punishments will be dealt accordingly.”

Alice finally relaxed against the seat, smiling. “Well after what happened last night, I don’t really have any problems with your rules anymore.”

“Please keep our private lives to yourself.” Tom narrowed his eyes at him, “I don’t want to come back and be the subject of tawdry gossip.”

“Aye-aye.” Alice relaxed, smirking. “Anything you say, _my Lord_.”

Tom hit him in the shoulder with his book. “You’re abnormally pleased with yourself, just be lucky we’re alone in this compartment.”

Alice crossed his legs and ignored him, enjoying himself for an hour longer. Eventually he came back to reality and straightened up, tucking one leg under himself as he turned to Tom. “What do you plan to do over the summer?”

Tom mildly looked annoyed that he was being interrupted out of his book, regarding Alice cooly. He looked less dopey than an hour ago, the shock over the night before must have worn off. “I plan to visit my father.” He didn’t say anything after that, letting the implications hang in the air. Both of them knew what it meant.

Alice smiled, “I wish I could visit my father.” He commented, the meaning of his words not lost on Tom at all.

“You’ll get your chance.” Tom said quietly, and that was the end of the conversation.

* * *

**1981**

Cool blue eyes gazed onward towards the small cottage, his hand holding a silver pocket watch. He checked the face of the watch every so often, patient. It was nearly that time, the time he had been waiting for.

“Remember, he’s not to be killed.” He said steadily, smiling over at the man beside him. “Do you think you can restrain yourself just for a moment?”

He was still snarky, Voldemort thought. Thirty-nine years and he still had a mouth on him. The Dark Lord stilled impatiently, waiting for Alice to give him the signal. He looked on at his partner, studying him. Pale skin and icy eyes that still held their fire, sparking every so often whenever he grinned. Sleek black hair that was constantly tied back, making him look aristocratic. He still held that air of indifference when it was time to murder someone, always approaching death as if it was nothing. He approached pain the same way, often welcoming it. It was a wonder this man was still sane with the way his mind worked.

After thirty-nine years, Alice Blackwood was still an enigma, surprising him every year. Even with two Horcruxes in his name and a dozen murders in his wake, the man was still as lively and humorous in his presence. It made for good company, a man he was proud to have at his side.

_The Dark Lord’s prince._

Alice snapped his pocket watch shut, “It’s time, now, don’t kill the boy. You’ll be missing around thirteen years if you do, the mother's sacrifice will make sure of that.”

The plan was simple: Kill the Potters and kidnap the boy. Alice needed an Heir, and Voldemort wanted his threat done away with.

Voldemort made his way forward, grinning maliciously at the thought of murdering a few more members of the Order. With the prophesied savior raised on the side of darkness, not even Dumbledore can think of a way to defeat him.

Alice watched from the eaves, listening to the blood-curdling screams and the baby's cries, closing his eyes to revel in the sounds.

Everything would only get better from here.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tempted to extend this into Alice and Tom's 6th and 7th years as well, not now but someday.


End file.
